Printmatic

I figure we start it out correctly.. This is Blueprint, RJD2 on the tracks This is a new tune Gotta get it right today, you know Whatever [Hook x2] Printmatic, cinematic perfection The blueprint, for crews that lack direction Automatic, just for my people Automatic, just for my crew Infinitively ill While most MC's show nothing but cold symptoms and hopes of ripping I turn crews of hard rocks into pot holes to piss in And you be no different, because you don't listen Too many wanna accept your crew of mediocre henchmen Who got you gassed up for an ill-advised solo mission But you should watch who you listen to They only did it cause they tryin to get rid of you And be the man standing in the limelight instead of you A little less dead weight, a little more revenue And you're about to play right into their hands Cause you dumb enough to buy all the bullshit they're selling you I guess one's born every minute And all the cats you roll with are living proof of that schedule Man listen, I'm willing to bet your DJ was born one minute ahead of you In the same hospital, maternity ward, crying in the crib, sittin right next to you You got beef? I got vegetables So if you really want it you can leave with a full stomach [Hook X2] In rumbles, I funnel words until I start feeling fully galvanized Inhale formaldahyde, exhale the battle rhymes Begin to bomb in a calm manner, jaws drop and shatter Gall bladders burst, punks jump up and get their egos punched By a far fatter verse And you can celebrate afterwards With a single release party in the back of my black hearse Invite your groupies, maybe one of thems a nurse With imported ice cubes from purgatory in her purse But I doubt it, and to my rivals Your chance of survival is slim to none unless you get a gun Or show your true colors and act like a bitch and run Praying that you're not another raisin in the sun But I suppose foes of mine chose the latter And scattered outta the way of powerful flows I shatter em those with blows that land hard enough To knock the snot outta your nose Isn't it funny how funny style contestants get reverted back to adolescence Turn your microphones in and turn into crack peddlers Now your dope and no one expects you to rap better You ain't a hard rock you write raps with feathers In the school of hard knocks you majored in mascara With a minor in black leather A nightclub swinger trying to get your sister act together But I'll close the curtain, it's certain that i'll close the curtain [Hook X3]