Album: Upchurch
Song: Deh SMESH
Tactical nuke incoming
I thought that you was A1? You can’t even flip a burger mate
You say I took a stretch because I’m chokin’ you from my home state
You called me Jack Black and also Patrick Swayze
A wrestler in a movie and a badass for the ladies, hey
Roundhouse kick to this internet shit
Take a dip then I spit clips in his hip hop ribs
Right hook to the chin, I got Teflon skin
I’m just playin’ with you like Khabib, I’ma smesh this
I’m bobbin’ and weavin’ while I just see you fatiguin’
I seen your hour long video, who you tryin’ to make believe it?
Clou9 said somethin’ and it really had me cheesin’
You a dweeb with a mental illness, go and call up Dr. Phyllis
Can’t catch me outside ’cause you always where the screen is
I go so fuckin’ hard you want to come cut off my penis
You gotta step inside my room because I’m still inside it leadin’
I’m a dragon on the mic, you’re wet matches outside in winter
You called me Dylann Roof, you can keep the first name
Stick the “D” down your throat, I’ll use the rest to cover from the rain
Stop hidin’ your face behind your iPhone 4k
You strut like a hooker, baby, walk this way
Man you’re mad that I’m swaggin’
And you get angry and mad ’cause I stay bobbin’
Like gamin’ in Madden, you’re the one that I’m sackin’
You ain’t gettin’ your quarterback and if you’re feelin’ scared, yellow flag
Tryin’ not to drop the fumble when you hit the touchback
You want it come and get it, code red I got plenty
Turn your Tune Core check into a ugly cup of pennies
Go and snort that ski lodge you got with all them Abraham Lincolns
Salty tears from your minions make it where I won’t be singin’ (Ahh)
I’ma D-boy struttin’ down your block now
Travel to Nebraska just to build my own White House
Got all your haters mad I got the cornhusks with me
Dealt it in my hand to backhand this fuckin’ look-a-like Booker T
This Undertaker’s takin’ a pimp Kane to the streets
Propaganda rapper, why you lyin’ through your teeth?
I wouldn’t be surprised if you was with hip hop police
Keep givin’ me credit for felonies I commit on beats (Ahh)
Ho chill while I spin the chrome wheels
Stuck in mud with you is funny ’cause I already stood here
So, who ain’t a rapper? Who can’t lyrically attack ya?
Who ain’t got no rhythm? I’m white and still sound blacker (Woo)
How you battlin’ with no ammunition?
Where’s your feature with Tech N9ne, he wasn’t feelin’ you neither? Damn
I seen the promotion that you paid for on the interweb
Your sissy friends bitchin’ in Honda Civics throwin’ hissy fits
This time tell your buddy quickly lift up his shirt
Suck his titty for milk when you’re quenchin’ for thirst
I’m feelin’ Too LIT don’t make me hit up artofkickz
And borrow some Air Force’s to finally come and stomp you out with
Lookin’ on fire before but now you’re startin’ to smolder
He came with a sling shot and a rock to fight Hercules holdin’ some boulders
Man this is terrific, yeah let’s get into specifics
You couldn’t write about me without mentionin’ politics or some pigment
Yeah, you right we different, I do not get dented
You’re playin’ mind games with psychology and fuckin’ physics
You bring bullshit with it, I bring bullfrog ribbits
No you might not get it but I’m wiser with the spit
You call yourself legit, but boy you ain’t even legitimate
You’re not a battle rapper you’re sentimental with sentiment
In your feelin’s intimate, trickin’ yourself into thinkin’ you’re rippin’ shit
When you isn’t slick, you’re the one that’s engagin’ this
And you know what, you weak ass carbon copy emcee
Hear me out ’cause there’s somethin’ I want you to explain to me
How your IQ so low you gon’ compare me to Dylann Roof?
Take lessons from Churchman and killshot yourself fool
Why you gotta be so motherfuckin’ sloppy and reckless
If I told you to break a leg you’d IHOP to breakfast
Take a shit in a urinal ’cause your aim is so helpless
The reason you ain’t signed ’cause you ain’t worth shelfin’
And you, Hit Brainiac, what the fuck you lookin’ at?
Start producin’ the new Ja Rule off topic floppin’ retarded starter tracks
I gotta take a piss, go ahead give me the Starter caps
I ain’t givin’ no autographs
I’ma wipe my ass and send it back in some fuckin’ bubble wrap
That’s what I call G mail
I’ll overnight ship it so you still get the “I’m the shit” smell
Scru you ain’t militant, for every attempt is a plummet
You fired a shot, I wasn’t budgin’, two more and still nothin’
I don’t know what’s lower you or North Korea’s defense budget
And as far as I’m concerned this beef is now deceased
The mad cow had to die ’cause it had a fuckin’ disease
So for everyone in the future who thinks they gonna clout chase me
I didn’t get this big from not bein’ able to fuckin’ bleed
I rap for no color, I rap for no money
Half the shit I got I give it to my brothers or my homies
You can stereotype me a million ways you want, dude
But you won’t beat me in hip hop I’m a pro with the tools (Hmm)
Oh wait, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
And also your lyrics do look like some bitchy victim quotes
Your last track sounded like a song Hillary Clinton wrote
I’m in a sea of rappers you paddle a uneven boat
Yeah, I am a comedian that’s why you always end up the losin’ joke
Church