All For Nothing

[Verse 1 — OnlyOne] Fuck all the hostility. Yeah, I keep artillery I keep it Godzilla, I got your back like auxiliary Sandpeople, Desert Storm Heckler in the dresser drawer A Better metaphor for smoking weed Would be the Seven Dwarves Cause when I smoke I get Happy and Sneezy But when i get Dopey, I get a little Sleepy If the Snow ain't White Get sent to the doc Bashful I know why you Grumpy They gave you a rotten Apple When your car crashes, a shooting star passes I make a bet for your soul like Doctor Parnassus Tearing apart static Angels drop you off on the farthest of all planets Talk about star status Dark matter baptism, it's seeming like fascism People learn how to read and write in a max prison Trapped in it like a beam of light in a glass prism The fact is the secret life that this country has Is under wraps like a mummy’s back, arrested for 20 stacks Still got the money back, what’s up with that? Pretty smart, strapped like Billy the Kid Skinny arms, buck fifty sharp Give you scars where your hickeys are You’re living like the Simpsons sipping, head pistol driven Twisted crucifixes, griffins in em, ripping down the crimson linen I ain’t pimpin', pimpin'. I exorcism women Got her head rotating 360 spinnin', grinnin' Yeah we winnin', winnin'. but we sinnin', sinnin' Your record’s spinnin', spinnin because you spendin', spendin' All for the cash, man DJs’ll only play you record for the cash, man All you motherfuckers rap about is cash, man That's why hip hop sounds like trash, man It’s fucking sad, fam [Verse 2 — Serge Severe] Check me out I ain’t a killa so I won’t lay you dead But I might rip the lips off your face like Mr Potato Head I don’t fight fair, knife through ya Nike airs Deflate your ego like a Guido That be catching white hairs My mic’s rare, I’m an emcee in its rarest form The veteran versus amateurs that be barely born Very scorned, black clouds leave you very poor I’m from the Rose City but all I see is scary thorns That’ll leave you shredded plus redder than some cherry’s torn Been fairly warned that I’m an artist to its very core To carry swords that leave you more than just very sore To bury more bad rappers what my mission is Like they don’t even know the definiton of spittin' is Or they don’t even know what some wordplay or diction is Or real versus fiction is I show 'em what the difference is Sounding like they can’t even read or form sentences Point blank period, listen to the sentence ends Had multiple friends catch multi-year sentences They’d call me up, I spit verses with relentlessness Said I kept their head up, I said don’t even mention it Cause that’s what real men do, no snakes allowed I told my primos I would make it just to make 'em proud So you can have the kitten kaboodle, I’ll take the cow I’m something like Guru the way I move the crowd The way an emcee is supposed to, can’t fake the style So take a graceful bow, ref call a flagrant foul On ya whole team of weak dishonest artists I’m from the O, we stay around green like farmer’s markets Nameless bullets but you couldn’t even find the target The Double S