[Intro]
What is the Question?
[Verse 1: Celph Titled]
Now when I see the man in the mirror
I see an animal clearer
The teeth look sharp, and and ain’t a man that’s much realer
I do somersaults and flips with nunchucks like a ninja turtle
I’m very bold, I’ll sell crack on an infomercial
I tell you what, if I don’t get the props I deserve
Imma leave you bleeding by the curb, and that’s my momma’s word
Bank account, commas absurd
Cause I sell specialty rap music, and sell out concerts
My favorite spot in the sporting goods, is the hunting section
They got slingshots and crossbows, and other types of weapons
Camouflage vests, and fully stocked with the lead
Next aisle over I can go fishing instead
And to the fake ones, your salaries low
Flow cornier than VH1 romance reality shows
Y’all know, I used the body wash to clean my shotty off
Cause its been catching back splatter from hacking through body parts
[Verse 2: Deacon the Villain]
A southern rebel that’ll leave your vital levels flat
You won’t be hot until you die and give the devil dap
You about as stupid as that pot that called the kettle black
I be conscious rapping but now even Gepetto’s strapped
Here to take the ghetto back, hush the whack stanzas
Taking it back to when rapping was talk ‘tween Black panthers
I’m Huey, Newton or Freeman, all of the above
You ain’t even Huey Lewis, ain’t got no power or love
And what’s sadder, you won’t touch rungs on Jake’s ladder
Universally unworthy of time, space, or matter
You hot as in anger, not as in magma
Deac is Death Valley, You are A-laska
I mastered the range, you mastered the lame
And the day that you’re the flame, I’m the rain
Strange
What is the Question?
[Verse 1: Celph Titled]
Now when I see the man in the mirror
I see an animal clearer
The teeth look sharp, and and ain’t a man that’s much realer
I do somersaults and flips with nunchucks like a ninja turtle
I’m very bold, I’ll sell crack on an infomercial
I tell you what, if I don’t get the props I deserve
Imma leave you bleeding by the curb, and that’s my momma’s word
Bank account, commas absurd
Cause I sell specialty rap music, and sell out concerts
My favorite spot in the sporting goods, is the hunting section
They got slingshots and crossbows, and other types of weapons
Camouflage vests, and fully stocked with the lead
Next aisle over I can go fishing instead
And to the fake ones, your salaries low
Flow cornier than VH1 romance reality shows
Y’all know, I used the body wash to clean my shotty off
Cause its been catching back splatter from hacking through body parts
[Verse 2: Deacon the Villain]
A southern rebel that’ll leave your vital levels flat
You won’t be hot until you die and give the devil dap
You about as stupid as that pot that called the kettle black
I be conscious rapping but now even Gepetto’s strapped
Here to take the ghetto back, hush the whack stanzas
Taking it back to when rapping was talk ‘tween Black panthers
I’m Huey, Newton or Freeman, all of the above
You ain’t even Huey Lewis, ain’t got no power or love
And what’s sadder, you won’t touch rungs on Jake’s ladder
Universally unworthy of time, space, or matter
You hot as in anger, not as in magma
Deac is Death Valley, You are A-laska
I mastered the range, you mastered the lame
And the day that you’re the flame, I’m the rain
Strange
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