Lyrical Mind

[Hook] I be up all hours, trying to find a deal While I'm smoking sour, trying to keep it real I chow down all your rappers, I make you my meal Pussy rappers acting tough go back to the big wheel And I'm up all hours, making my beats Try to battle me bitch put away your cleats When I win theres a whistle from the referee My music underground and it runs these streets [Verse 1] All these lines are forming in my mind Running through my brain like kids from "Columbine" And I'm working my way all to the top I know your a fake bitch you don't got a Glock Livin' on a motto, sayin' "Fuck All The Opps" Bitches go bang bang and run from the cops Switchin' it around, its time for a diss "Weezy" is a poser, and "Drake" can't spit "Hopsin" has quit, "Logic" should have fame Hip-Hop in the 90's will never be the same To me the rap game is twisted in the brain And raps I got a lot, smokin' on some pot Bitch I'm too cocky to fuck with the SWAT My raps enter your brain like a blood clot Then it is stuck in your head like it got caught Your girl dresses like, average thots [Verse 2] Call me a rapper but I'm slayin' all these beasts Come battle me I can spit to any beat Try to stop me bitch you'll be deceased Your flow is from me, I guess my flow is on lease My lyrical mind painting a lyrical picture My raps are so holy I better write a scripture Don't fuck with me though I'm crazy like Hitler My ex calls me hottie, I'm bout to get a shottie Don't talk to me, I'm about to leave a body Try to fuckin' rob me, I'll hit you like Gotti And I'll make you pass out, like you took a molly And my brain got the seeds for lyrical needs Growing ideas like lyrical trees Weed unlocks my mind, its miracle keys Im rolling up in a whip, like a rolled doobie We know you a snitch your name must be scooby [Hook] [Verse 3] Rollin' up a blunt, Im'a fucking go stunt And all my bitches fuck from the front All y'all jealous like haters, young boy gettin' pussy like Vader Young hitters know how to make stacks, blowing money fast, getting lots of cash Bitches on the team, blazing green Don't worry about prints on the scene My team always leaves unseen So good at this shit our nickname Mr. Clean And I don't fuck with them blond fake bitches Without any makeup they all look like witches And talk shit about me I'll leave you needing stitches Leave your body torn up left with no bitches [Verse 4] Im high as the sky, but thats not the limit Try to rob me, and get popped in a minute I treat writing as a therapy I seem to free my mind, I start to see clarity Tryin' to improve my status as a visionary I study biggie every day Emulate pac in every way Im not looking for any fame Just a tad bit of respect, in the rap game And for all of you to remember my name My name is Jared, you all get it straight You making money off selling your weight You also a scum, for hitting the stains You think that you're black with your two gold chains Don't try to rob me I'll splatter your brains I don't do anything for personal gains [Hook: x2]