Lucidity

[Intro] [Backmasked message] [Verse 1: Gil Wrayson] I'm going Patrick Bateman on the fucking spawn of Hell Blood pressure less than zero like the bad part of Arendelle I don't make brag raps, I only make nag raps I can leave you stumped like I busted off your kneecaps I wanna blow up like an easy Michael Bay joke Bad boys wanna rock while I wanna provoke One more year till I'm able to smoke And be popular with bitches like Hopsin with blokes Good day, family, came to roast me? Or host me and boast me while toasting me with low key bullshit Put me to sleep like Kevorkian practices If you fuck with my friends, we go to the mattresses Want aguilas, not buitres over my head Put on a pedestal, get head from Jhene like the world could end But for now, I'm just a rapper on the Genius forums While all my fans are saying "Don't bore us, get to the chorus" [Chorus: Gil Wrayson] Everybody come together and work as a team Everybody come together and work as a team Till we're soaring like eagles in a lucid dream Till we're soaring like eagles in a lucid dream [Verse 2: Emperor Aguila (and his critics)] Look, you ain't shit, ‘cause you rap on the internet Why put yourself out there? Nobody has interest Fuck it, got buckets of bars, yet nobody’s digging 'em A nugget of wisdom, getting gold is a synonym For impossibility, the probability of me Going platinum is like Stupid Liz-ike’s ability To find astatine combined with an alkaline metal It’s crossing the line, balling like Kareem, toss me a medal Wait, Aguila you don’t fucking deserve one You're dope, but you aren’t making it, stop faking it Shaking shit up like a Coca-Cola soda from the summer of 1886 Lady chicks sipping on it like a gin-and-tonic The James Bond of lame songs, yet I have potential Essentially underrated like the understated Bond’s games In 2002, rousin’ you up like a home run My microphone gun, I strike ya home, run (Emp) [Chorus: Emperor Aguila] Everybody come together and work as a team (as a team) Everybody come together and work as a team (as a team) Till we're soaring like eagles in a lucid dream (lucid dream) Till we're soaring like eagles in a lucid dream (na na) [Verse 3: Gil Wrayson] One, two, three strikes with the bat, what's a baseball? See you next fall when I have it all, please hold your calls And it's a holocaust in the halls with kids bawling their eyes out Cause they did some stupid shit drinking a little too much stout Oh wait, the subject escaped me, let me throw it back in its cage If "High" is my one-hit, I'm fine that I went hard like Lady of Rage On her one hit I spit shit with quick wit that lifts you Nitwits and twits to skip the Pandora pick I'm flamboyant, Jareth on meth, Beth Sloane tried to abort me And all these rap heads just wanna sort me "He's a product of Tyler, Em, Cube, Bino, and Jay-Z" Yeah, that's true, but how does that make me lazy? "He stole his opinions from Todd, Rap Critic, and Mues" I admit I worship them, and would gladly fill their pews FLUUD and I are cleaning this rap game spill; we know the drill But I won't be a fucking snitch like Meek Mill