DEV3N - Control (Freeverse) lyrics

[Verse 1: Slayd] Tell Kendrick that he done provoked a menace That run with a coalition. Of flow-ers with no intentions Of slowing or showing weakness. Just step in the booth And treat it like I ain't got no f**in' clue what peace is I sever any competitor into pieces Appeasing my audience while my presence becomes prestigious So peep this, I'm 3 sick I'm so above y'all, if I fell off I'd probably land on a G6 Got all these of local rappers afraid of me They don't take shots, not ones for bravery From now on you get the dial tone if you ain't talking bout paying me And nahh I ain't no god, but all of you n***as prey to me Rewind bout 3 times when I speak lines To the big dogs I'm a big dog, the rest of yaw felines. Hah You need about 3 minds and some speaker cables To really understand what I speak-on Its happening, I'm grappling. The key The games locked and i need what you squares guarding like Madison This craft I be mastering, I should have a masters in Rap. Sharp as a mid air traveling javelin The compositions i dismantle yaw couldn't dabble in Me an them equals? Yaw better do that math again Slayd, y'all ain't half of him. Don't make me have to snap again f** it, I'll just let my n***a dot have them then [Verse 2: Deviiin] First and Foremost, I thank you Mr. Lamar All you said to me was "Grind", as I begged you to let me spar With your intelligence, irrelevant evidence made it evident That one word embedded a million hearts into my negligence Which now a black chariot, carries it to it's grave With this playing in back, serenading the slaves Of the underworld, all held captive - shackles and chains To last eternally, all along with my f**in' name I refuse to be a two-bit, afraid to be loose lip Rhymer, only pushin' for p**y, money, designer And pushin' Maseratis, designated model driver I'd rather be sharin' views with Puffy Combs and Ca**andra Over facetime, minutes before a interview with dateline 'Bout how to save the world, from the peril we seem to face blind Racism, hate crimes, terrorism and fake lies All strategically placed, to make us board windows and shade blinds But who am I? a rapper? workin' a 8-5? In a dirty warehouse, while tryna' escape the mob And the life that I used to claim, and that gun that used to "9" And the close calls that rang, made me wana' resign From my blacktop podium, n***as was throwin' sodium Me and Loc-Oh, was out traffickin' with Ozium George Jung - Mohammed, Finger twistin' is-Lamic Hippopotamus hungry, stomach touchin' my f**in' spinal Might as well Co-sign me, to go against me like drivin' Off a f**in' mountain top, in a drop top while reclinin' Ya baby in backseat, un-strapped, b**hin' and cryin' Hunnid Racks, a kilo, and a strap pa**enger sidin' 5 illegal immigrants, a plan to remake Rwanda Floor plans of the White House, Ransom note for the Dalai Lama Broadcasted worldwide, by the news through basic cable A thousand GTA stars, and the cheat codes disabled