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letra de final breath freestyle - thatredhoodedguy

no hook. no chorus. just the last of the gasoline…
the end of the road, the final, unfiltered lyrical scene…
this is the final breath, the last ounce of rhyme i contain
better catch it all now, ’cause it won’t be seen again

i’m running on fumes, but the motor’s still over-revving past the red line
i spit lines that crack reality, fracturing sp-ce and time
i’m the last man standing in the studio, clutching the smoking gun of the mic
you wanted density? this is the big bang condensed into a single strike
i’m a tеsla coil spitting current, electrifying thе whole building’s frame
i brought the fire and the fury, demanding respect and reign
your favorite rapper’s flow is a pre-school picture drawn with crayons
mine is the sistine chapel fresco, built with complex octagons and ions
i’m the reason the illuminati holds its secret meetings in a panicked rush
they fear the truth in my words, turning their whole power structure to dust and crush
you wanna talk about speed? i’m moving at a lyrical warp factor five
every consonant connects, every vowel is designed to survive and thrive
i’m poe meeting lovecraft in a dark alley, discussing the cosmic horror of sound
i’m burying the rap game so deep it can never again be found on the ground

they call me a menace, a threat to the culture, the ultimate controversy
my voice should come with a parental warning and a full curse guarantee
i’m so far ahead, i’m waving back from the year 2050’s zenith
you’re still stuck in the past, debating who the best tenet is, beneath us
my wordplay is a science, the mendeleev table of the tongue’s composition
i’m dissecting your weak style, performing a lyrical autopsy with precision
i’m hitting triple entendres, stacking metaphors that are three-dimensional and dense
you need a full team of editors to decipher the full lyrical expense
i hear you whining online, talking about who owns the master rights and the tape
while i’m crafting a masterpiece that makes the whole industry gape and scr-pe
i’m the final boss battle, the dark souls level you can never defeat
the microphone is my sword, forged in the eternal heat of the street
i’m dropping references that only the deeply obsessed can decode and know
like referencing moby’s face after i told him to grow some hair and go!
yeah, the ultimate meta-reference, a final salute to the g*nius i chased
now step aside, the final breath is gone, the mic has been erased
… that’s it. there’s nothing left to spit
the well is dry. the word is finished

- thatredhoodedguy

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