Hostile

I burn a mic like I'm yearning to earn stripes up

A surgeon working a knife with the words surged thru the mic of

The scenes servin the white and the first murder to strike up

Disturbed version of life from the perch versed in the lights

Of the days that the streets raised and the grace that the kings gave me

The plate that he keeps waking up makes me a fiend crazy

Relate me to fake fucks but it's way too obscene stating

My aim is to make ducks out of 80 percent playing

Cuz now I'm making moves and blazing my path

To finally enter in this game give a taste of my wrath

Breaking a groove that be the centerpiece of hate that I have

Making a movie out these dismal streets I raised on my ass