letra de pizza - bluvelv, freezepark, rayzor
[verse 1: freezepark]
y’all remember me? i’m abck
refresh your mind, please, it’s pitch black
i’ll put you back to last year with a slap-attack
to the short-stouted banger with his luggage all packed
ready for a comeback, ya dig?
they passin me by, no eyes as far i can see
i keep the crown at home, it distracts me
the god complex could’ve cracked my dome
and have me phone it all in like impos’ syndrome
switching side to side, f-ck sickly, i’m king
sheddin’ off the skin before any could cling
rethinking the image before the checks come in
dumping history, you can’t suspect him
of having that trash, that mid, that flop
that sh-t shot blanks like a “what was that?”-job
taking parts of everybody, stack up the kebab
chop chop, time to drop now or it’s full stop
break apart the duo just to lose your own footing
scramble up ideas, what the f-ck are we doing?
i got no songs, but i’ll rap for food
i’m sweating bricks over here, i got some bars but they’re used
[verse 2: rayzor]
used and abused, they got me running like a fat man
but don’t call me brendan fraser, cuz i’ll never be banned
from any sound system, like your radio station
ip interpretation, or even the d-mn playstation
when it’s rayzor on the mic, you don’t stop him
just let him spit for a second, then he’ll go drop
them wack mc’s that y’all want to see
cuz somewhere in the middle, mack just can’t live and let be
everybody’s wondering what’s next for me
well come close and let me tell you how i’ve been, see
well, i’ve been free, i’ve been so free
but the sad truth is, we’re in a state of an emergency
i’m crazy like rick rubin, and i don’t gotta prove it, though
when’s the last time you seen a bison in the studio?
so now i’m gonna ball like snooty, hit the d-mn sinker
and let me alley-hoop this verse to my man, mr. pink
[verse 3: bluvelv]
blastin off, blastin off ’til i blow up like the challenger
back in the game like i gave the arcade another quarter
working over time as a player
everyday on the calendar i meet another quota
bound to bounce from the z-list to the a
making rounds, keeping b-tches in check as i bank
they’ll be living in their box while i rock the hall of fame
and i did it all frank sinatra, my way
too many people asking why my follow-up ain’t dropped yet
i’m working up the nerve to address that
if i get them on a feature, my record gets a blemish
leaches sucking up my power ’til they’re spitting out my verses
tough sh-t if you struggled for cl!cks
but if i cough on a mic, it’s a number one hit
with bars so hot that they’re throwing a fit
saying “oh my god, that’s the funky sh-t”
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