My Attitude

[Intro] Are you referring to Diabolic? Diabolic? I assure you that this individual whose very name reveals his antagonism to the established values of our society will soon be brought to justice [Diabolic] Middle fingers up y'all, let's go, c'mon! [Verse 1] I'm an animal caged, paid dues, no annual raise I channel my rage, attacking on a national stage Fighting 'til my knuckles crack, pushed back and displayed Coming through the skin like Wolverine's retractable blades I'm a cannibal, caveman that escaped To paint pictures with my words, spray cans on my waist Better recognize, like the city's cameras in place With software to identify by scanning your face Now examine the traits of a mythological beast A monster unleashed like those Greek gods on the beach Released the Kraken, attacking Metropolitan streets Demolishing beats while you're busy following Tweets Diabolical, freak genius secretly stands I'm on a different wavelength, got your frequencies jammed Strategically planned, cause the streets that we ran Exorcise demons, bringing out the beast in each man Screaming [Hook: Sample and Diabolic] (Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool) "Nah, fuck you"'s my attitude! (Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool) "Nah, fuck you"'s my attitude! (Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool) "Nah, fuck you"'s my attitude! (Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool) Hahahaha! [Verse 2] I take a shot of tequila, and Pop's prodigal son Starts hollering like his father with a bottle of rum Who got some shit to pop, scream top of your lungs Choke on your words, have a seizure and swallow your tongue I'm hollow and numb, plus I'm coming through with the goons My crew carpooled to throw bar stools at saloons Moving the room like visuals while chewing some shrooms So you should assume a doctor's gonna suture your wounds A stupid buffoon from the worst environment known Where scientists clone cells like a wireless phone In the 90s, and deny me when applying for loans At least street cred can buy me a retirement home We're dying alone, slowly, so we're losing control Presently I'm past caring what the future can hold I live for the moment, fusing both, the new and the old My music is cold and represents the roots of my soul It's like [Hook] [Verse 3] Ain't no fictional plot, it's real shit, hitting the spot Simmering hot, with your bitch on the tip of my cock Choking from it like a noose with a fisherman's knot Then I give her a shot like she's in insulin shock Still ain't got a pot to piss in, so I'll piss in the pots In your kitchen, after I get done picking the locks Listen and watch, the time bomb ticks on the clock And after I blow I'll move to Cuba, living with Pac Sitting atop the charts, while they market my name Arsenal aimed at any marketing targeting range Comes charged in the game, I don't need the stardom and fame So I'm attacking like Japan at Pearl Harbor with planes Far from the same, cause the music industry's wack That's why every real motherfucker's giving me dap I'm sick of these cats, so riddle me this, riddle me that When will someone grow some balls and try dissing me back Tell 'em [Hook] [Outro] You should already know Don't ask me for shit You know what you'll hear Hey! Fuck you You heard I'll repeat it, fuck you Peace (Fuck you, I'm out)