Ferocious

Yeah Rates 1 ABK UF Time to tell these cunts Show these cunts what I got They been waiting [Verse 1: Rates] I know I can show my skill Grow as the moment builds Leap hurdles and leave crop circles in an open field I fucking know it's real Leave the scene just devastated Them definitely hesitant, don't reckon I'm the next to make it Destined to put pen to paper and make it ageless Whether I'm famous or not, amazing with the pages Just a little mention of Rates, it can make the Devil awake You tremble it's so terrible even heaven's afraid Step on ya grave, summon your ghost, bring you back to life Just to punch you in the face to show you that my raps are tight Attack in the night Back when I was packing the pipe Should've seen me laughing, drinking blood as I'm having a fight Trapped in my mind Satisfaction I happened to find Factory abattoir killing getting cash for crimes Fuck what the doctor said Not stopping I'm off my meds If you cracks don't think you're crazy Then you cunts are off your head [Hook: Rates] x2 I'm making my own sound My own rhythms I own now My hometown is so proud I know because my flow is so ferocious I could throw down No I wouldn't joke around My lyrics rip ya throat out Ain't something that ya know about [Verse 2: Rates] On stage I can slay rappers as I'm wearing a straight jacket Wasted after taking 8 tablets from the same packet You wanted skill, I can kill it and fill it in several ways Definitely selling a recipe to take your breath away I reckon the stress is setting levels to get 'em afraid They're pressing play and they're standing back and they're swept away I bet these rappers wet their pants whenever they menstruate I bet it takes a lot of biting, writing every sentence made My raps insane, I was trapped in a grave Locked in a coffin, in a box No oxygen, I was baffled in pain They had to trap me away Yep, I had 'em afraid Rapping attacking lyrics victims that I have to say I'm a demon like a mean beast that you have to slay The heroin that's calling your name making you stab your veins UF, attacking with a style that's just ruthless A beautiful, brutal musical tune Tighten the nooses [Hook] x2 [Verse 3: Rates] Your bitch is a fiend with the glass pipe lickin' it clean I'm going off topic, no I'm not you thinkin' she's keen This music is a dirty bitch She's about 36 Been around some dirty dicks Squirting, jerking all the hits All the other up and comers Can't compete with tougher brothers Have you seen us work the crowd? We're knowing that they fucking love us Hate the industry I'm in and I'm hating undercover Rappers full of sluts and faggots, somehow they all fuck each other And what they spawn is a dawn of an embarrassing day Rates is going back in a cave and Azza's ashamed It's more annoying then a lad saying "Just having a paint" The same little fags you used to harass on the back of the train And now every little cunt they think that they're bad as When it comes to throwing a fucking punch they're as sad as Miraculously knocked out and yeah I'm back wrapped in Glad-Wrap And ill rip ya wax sketches and lyrics you had in ya backpack Death, I'm not scared of it More scared of my debt But when they're there to collect man I'm taking their hands and their heads Demanding respect with this style I've created A doctor of words, Dr. Rates abbreviated For fuck sake, when will the hate in my brain be alleviated? Just me, I believe that me and my team we'd be the greatest Delete the fakers need to leave it at that Smoke weed 'till I collapse, nah the scene ain't competing with that [Hook] x2