Fly Shit

[Intro: Aasim] South Side. Jamaica, Queens area ‘bout to break the sound barrier. What you want, son? [?] give it to you just like this: fly shit [Hook: Aasim] Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with [Verse 1: Aasim] My rap techs better than black sex each track my rap bless [?] sets like data cats, the backs from black techs Attacks complex. Facts whack the brain and so you collapse And lack breath. I cook on this grill Ill soul like a black chef, scholastic philosopher Maneuver well on this rap track, militant opera D’X de la ghetto, el lyrical perfecto Got rappers stranded like inmates with no el collecto Flash Gordon verses merciless, murderous dispersin’ this Thirstin' this fly nigga with turbulence. Word in this microphone massacre Menace composition manufacturer, black rhythm rapturer, bloody throat like Dracula [Hook: Aasim] (x2) Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with [Verse 2: Aasim] Our whole fortress. I seen the god of reason paint portraits Lyrical forces, four horses horseman offense Nah, rock star. Black Chucks my crew rock far Praise all while some screaming, “Allahu Akbar” My uncle locked in. I try and shine for him, consecutive Years keep stocking while the blue murderers clock in Mind state’s like “Wait.” I’m chopping combatants to small size Voice sharp, cutting eardrums, open all eyes Sleeping on the individual straight from South Side Jamaica, Queens side. Emcee high off my word lye Verbs link to heart attacks, raising hell over tracks Double-S soldier, look over your shoulder, behind your back The architect X. I pose more than a threat Perform on your set. Hip hop—nah, a war vet Storm the context, the mic’s my sword of iron Use it like Conan for surviving. You chose to battle against this lion Roaring, I could go on and on and on and F-O-F roaming, hit hard like a stone and Leaving opponents all broke down into components Kid, quote this the exact way I wrote this, composed this [Hook: Aasim] (x2) Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with [Verse 3: Aasim] My phonics is economics, my atomic bomb the casualties I think I was a accident born through acid from batteries I’ve expressed myself verbally. Since the birth of me Niggas couldn’t acquire my skills if they had surgery Literally, I could lyrically start a colony in Italy Mentally and physically—yo son, niggas is feeling me If rap was church, I’d be the pastor and the freaking deacon After I finish speaking, niggas brains’ll be leaking Competition that want head-on collisions: get a airbag I chisel through little crews like tanks through troops in Baghdad Emcees: they got the [bomb?], they got duds. I got studs Blowing spots when they drop. Take me out? Get off the drugs From Malibu to the avenue, they blast the tape Can’t stand rapping after wack rappers ‘cause they be leaving that wack aftertaste I rhyme fat, girls reach climax from one line that…