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letra de h e l l o _ w o r l d - jake the adversary

[intro]
mid-range, lo-fi, high-concept
kid’s brains don’t like my concepts
flip flame, flow fly, find progress
no game, no life, no contest

[verse 1]
f-ck yo’– ”who that boy? why he rap?”
well, i guess i’m tryna’ be just like my boy ytcrack-
er, i’m calling him my boy, but he’s not, so in fact
i’m myself, other cats prolly won’t write me back
augh, peep the declaratory distinction
f-ck a label, this is just rap territory distinction
cl-ss-time teacher can hand-garrote delinquents
the last five surviving can d-mn inherit my inklings

[verse 2]
getting indie on the lo-fi sh-t
but if a person f-cking with me, i’ma blow right quick
and i’m perpetually busy, but i don’t quite quit
’cause i got no time for dealing with a no time -ish
you b-tchin ‘bout the game’s how i b-tch about the hugos
the kids amount to lames, gettin’ cl!cks about the ufos
i’m rude though, moody blue flows, like i’m fugo
cruising through notes- i was growing up on kabuto

[verse 3]
writing out the type of sh-t that’s printed on demand
if you wanna do collabs, then i’m spitting in my hand
happy if you’ll have me, and p-ssy if you won’t – oh
kick it in a dojo, miss me with the dough jokes
straight bumping with the trumpeteous zeal
half the time, i argue sh-t, like whether numbers are real
not a plus when it’s sorta hard to sum what i feel
but smiling when they say the game’s dead and blood has congealed

[verse 4]
i like literature, not jane austen
i’m into integers, and not lame sophists
magic cylinder to solve game problems
a cynic sinecure, the dogs stay novice
cats crowd around, give ’em constant acknowledgement
buys own hype, yeah, he’s falling for all of this
adversary type, and my gall is impolitic, and few
know me, like i’m herzegovinan politics

[verse 5]
probe meridian, yeah i know it’s -govinian
i get most of the idiots in a roast, like davidians
and i wish i could keep a dymaxion sleep schedule
rapping for cheese, keep it rapid release, hence
no one’s gonna prevent me from rhyming it maybe on beat
waxing abstract while i’m lying back on the concrete
deadhead mess sfx def’ excess
i read sff ffs

[verse 6]
gpa fulla’ as, guy seems so neet
check a chess rank, more a high c, low b
’cause i suck at openings, and endings, and mid-games
i’m only coping with contending with misnames
uh, misnomers, no jacob, a kid sober
bringing technicolor dream-coat sh-t when i flipped over
the dude’s a big loafer in a pair of big loafers
“h-llo world”, prints out my mouth when i spit toner

- jake the adversary

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