Levenkhan - Final Outlaw Theory II lyrics

[Verse 1: FinaL OutlaW] I'm like a mathematician, back slash magician Back slash musician, back slash politician My primary competition lacks vision Just give em a couple of stacks and some scantily clad women I'm glad to be back spittin', my battery packs filled My bladder is past max capacity, quit asking me For collabs, I don't condone rapping with fans That throw tantrums and act like grown babies and Stans I'm coming with the most wickedest You come outdated and unfinished like australopithecus At low flames, my flow SIMMERS I spit no FILLERS, Gold chains I crush them to gold glitter I spit heat that'll keep you hot through cold winter I'm still here like Occupy after November Oh Man, I came to behold plans Straight from the soul I'ma bestow through the whole land My own fam was takin' advantage Those I considered friends was turning they backs And I just sat there, not saying a thing Not hating, but I'm definitely not waiting for them Cause I'm free now, and I've got a mean style I write and I freestyle, the fire can breathe now I've done had it; I'm ready to start challenging Any authority, whether a rookie or seniority Its no fable, I'm ready to volcano The levee is unstable, my temper un-playful With enough rage to punch you in the navel So hard it'll knock the wind out of your guardian angel I'm breaking rules, and I'm running with it I'll meat cleaver king Midas's hands, and snuff him with it I'm upset cause the sh** I came up on Seems to have just left, seems to be long gone Days that we bumped Pac, days that we bumped Nas Days that we bumped Em, days that we bumped Pun Those were the days when the basics was just fun Nowadays I feel like the racists have must won What have we got here? Too many cops here Too many shots here, too many flops here Too many cats claiming to be the greatest to ever do it When the truth is these impersonators just got here I'm from a top tier, I run with the top boys Plottin' since cash money came out with the hot boyz Homie I got noise, homie I got jams That'll make grand pop stand up and say, “Got damn” This young man is sharp and he's not playing I'm tearing apart metal with Mario cart shells And the scariest part is that I channel a dark realm Where a chariot falls from heaven carrying Sean Bell And he carries a crucifix that he lances across hell While Harriet Tubman and Lauryn Hill unlock cells Of innocent kids, to vindicate immigrant kin, incinerate sin I generate phlegm to represent my generation I provide syntax for examination So sit back and bump to my algorithm I know that you're sick and you suffer from malnutrition Perhaps the root is all the trash you listen to It makes you mad and makes you miserable Maybe all the songs about k**ing n***as and f**in' many b**hes Is really only k**ing the individual in you WHOO, that's deep ain't it? Not really, its obvious to me damn it, you see It doesn't take a savant to pick this apart This is intricate art, from a genuine heart So if you feel the same click the like bu*ton And write something, and cop my album on I-tunes its like $9 somethin'