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letra de check for me - scott phree

[verse 1: scott phree]
my penmanship, is professor sh-t
yo, peep the testament, who’s next to get
wrecked and split, when i’m flexin wit
these oral acrobatics, rap’s a habit, grab the tablet
make ’em disappear like magic, automatic
y’all are flaccid, get the static
tune in, best get your antenna straight
educate, these featherweight rappers, have to get a plate
food for thought until your belly ache, i have you chewin tums
when i do it son, hard to grasp if you don’t use your thumbs
fluid runs from the lungs when you hear the flow
“what’s the scenario?” on my tribe’s quest, so “here we go”
imperial, stereo rhyme enthusiast
maneuver my foot into your gluteus, i’m studious
ain’t new to this rhyme sh-t, my time’s spent with gettin
so far up in that ass, wind up in yo midsection
like the kid’s checkin for intestine infection
proctology inspection with a lecture, now begin lesson
grab your number 2’s, that’s a pun in case someone’s confused
i’ll have you soilin your underoos
i ain’t the one to lose, leave a mothaf-cka bruised
when i’m comin’ through, with a jewel
you ain’t sayin’ nothin’ new (nothing)
your rhyme’s redemption center
recycled like old bottles, hit you full throttle
the impact, will bend your fender
i intend to dent ya, did the sh-t on purpose
when i’m spittin verses, connect my rhymes like cursive
then submerge this verse with, submersibles, i’m versatile
take it personal, i’ll flip it horizontal, vertical
every other which way, wit the rhyme the kid say
whenever i hit play, i give a little display
of my verbal scheme and plannin
word to my homie liam shannon
watch ’em break, cuz i ain’t gonna leave ’em standin (hey!)
phree’s a cannon, so light the wick, ignite the sh-t
i hit that ass harder than a rifle kick, don’t trifle wit
this type of sick misbehavior, b-tch i’ll kiss a razor
spittin liquid paper on my neighbor, so they get the flavor
you can taste the, all-natural ingredients
i do it with expedience, yo you ain’t got me convinced
i seen ya flinch, schemin since i was a young shorty
wit my pen and paper, a blunt rolled, and one 40
true story, scott phree, yo check for me
but don’t pop that sh-t, unless you got a check for me
[verse 2: haze holiday]
the smoke got my eyes siamese, not chinese
i’m seein double and ghostin, visuals like a child sees
the broke f-cka wit a wild st–z
you wanna trial these for size?
everything but my style’s free
word to worldwide arsonists, wit fire beats
dressed in argyle tweed vests
schemin like gomer pyle be, (tell ’em) cleanin rifles
evil triflin, smilin in the latrine, fiendin nightfall
how you gonna run laps, around my rap marathon tracks
when you in a pile cryin by mile 3? (you’re not)
it’s haze; better nod and smile when i’m on your aisle
in your lane, bringin the pain, tical the idol
chamber #9 flow, with a dash of s dot picasso
even ya mind’s blown, ha (yo)
i’m tryna get these blondes blowed
so they blow my whole crew pr-nto
and then dip ‘fore they mom’s home

(haze holiday)

- scott phree

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