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letra de definition of a rap flow - sammy warm hands

i’ll be a legend, an american tale like fivel
like an anthrax scare in the mail
my rivals might cower in their boots
i devour the troops
scour the scene with a scowl while i tower like eiffel
f-ck a sneak peek, i’m a sight for a sore eyeful
like chief keef reading lines out of the bible
i rhyme for survival, never fired a rifle
never hunted for game, i’ve got nothing to gain
from hundreds of fussing, buzzing buzzards all f-cking gunning for fame
i’m running a flood to your brain like an abundance of blood in your vein
you’re too conventional, emcees are one in the same
two dimensional beings like you were stuck in a frame
you’re a sucker to feign, i’ll redefine the flow
with non-linear rhyme schemes and, i don’t know
maybe i’ll bust with substance or speak uniquely
like i’m here for a myriad reasons or merely an inkling of purpose
like chuck said, “if i can’t teach
i shouldn’t even open my mouth to speak”
but i reach them loud and they seek to find
a beast of another kind has breeched the minds
of a dumbed down sound, bound by cartoon delinquency
confound the crowd with a fine tuned frequency
and if you can’t speak to me with decency
go f-ck yourself! you can reach it easily
cause anybody can rap for five minutes straight
but half of these cats can’t for their lives ill-strate
any relatable stories or even tangible evidence
of their debatable glories at the hand of benevolence
but what’s the benefit of breaking the mold?
inevitably, i won’t settle ’til i’m taking control
if you’re faking the funk don’t f-cking meddle with us
i keep my mind sharp, your shiny metal will rust
you’ll be craving vapor, chasing the paper
defacing the face of the sacred for status
you’re a disgrace, and i’m taking you fakers down like a fader
cause i’m a master debater, slaving away to the beat
while you’re saving on labor for cheap
thought you could cheat like you were dropping the heat
and shot a proper video with props you got in the street
but no amount of graffiti or train tracks
can hide the lack of even fleeting meaning in lame tracks
you claim facts, but lack in actual action
i hate your band, you understand? there’s no p-ssion, all fashion
you bomb sets like open mic stand up
i’ve blessed this contest with presence like santa
and i planned to skip the first chorus
but that biz markee sh-t is so good for us!!

i’ll destroy ’em all

i’m whiter than sun dried bird sh-t
but i’m a bonafide rhyme writer and unsigned merchant
my lines surprise, remind tongue tied virgins:
no bus ride verses are worthy of worship
f-ck a punch line, i’m wiping the floor with d-mn rappers
pleading for s’more — toasted graham crackers
like a flea i’ll leave em bleeding
conceding, proceeding to flee and
i’m reading their pleas, impeding their glee as i please
whether og oldies or hnic
i’ll roast old fogies and each mic
the way i see, we enjoyed the same scene
but now i’ve made a vow to destroy the mainstream
f-ck wilhelm, i wanna hear drake scream
but chumps can’t cut the mustard, man, like rake’s scene
i’ll be stuck in your ear— my cd’s a corn holder
another stroke of g*nius: ivy league p-rn folder
coming in for the k!ll until we face senility
i’ve got more techniques than dj abilities
(you’re) the pity epitome on a path of futility
without any excuse for such a lack of humility;
not a shred of credibility, you bet i’m precise
i drop so much sh-t, you’ve gotta flush twice
i’m a sad clown bad summer hair cut
had it down ’til my midlife crisis flared up
you’re a seat belt with no buckles
i’d rather watch a doc-mentary about toe knuckles
i’ll mock you readily without provocation
i’m the remedy: inoculation
for indoctrination of fast food rap
cr-ss boom bap’s back
crude slap to the face, kick to your -ss crack
crush a battle act, write a finer haiku
even my bpm is higher than your iq
i won’t fight you, throwing left or right blows
i’ll murder any motherf-cker when it comes to live shows
the greatest thing since resealable oreos
better than bl-w j-bs at truck stop glory holes
no place to run, no place to hide
cause my farts even stink outside
(they really do)

- sammy warm hands

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