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letra de the spice kitchen - yung zainer

introducing me, i represent the
three ‘oh three plus the seven-two, oh’, yep! the
zero. i strike impacts on the planet like
superheroes, then flex my whip mint fresh like
mojitos. i pull into your block with a velocity that drops
before the stop like i’m an unidentified flying
object. life’s complex, it costs less to not press
regardless, i go monstrous
i’m the motherf-cking loch ness
listen, 2020 f-cked me up likе crack. but yo
we living in ’21 now, i’ma fight through it
ahead of the futurе and past, producing bars
the rhymes move ya’
i’m giving medusa scars
yo, that’s my “karma sutra,” now
join the journey, just jam with me, jack, this
jungle gym of rhythm’s ’bout to begin, it’ll get you
jumping like bazooka blasts
complete control of bending the flow, you better be on guard when the seas rock, ‘cause i seize land between oceans
you know, we in the season (why?)
to season the moment (huh?)
so make a stop at the spice kitchen and pick your boy up if you need a potion
believe in this written i’m keeping a vision
no being indifferent behind this mic while i’m
fighting the limits of life and predicaments
i don’t be giving a sh-t where you stand (why?)
i’m in a position to slam
the nails of the coffin you locked in. i’ll never soften
there’s no escape. it’s not a “k!ll bill”
situation. i’m tryna’ give it a
hundred. i do what i’m lovin,’
i’m blunted and wondering what i can say
what is a day if you don’t even accumulate wisdom?
give me the kick drum, this funk be the quick
fix from this syndrome. got a symptom
somebody find me the
number to call for illness, i k!ll this
i’ve been distilled from the realist
it isn’t a drill, i get silly for assembling
similies then lil d-cky to chili’s
powerful is divinity, a polyphonic symphony
it’s mean to be. subliminal imagery gets
implanted with a stamp of hip-hop. from
vandalism to hand-crafted graffiti
masterpieces graphically inscribed
inside your retina
it’s as if i’m a wizard with these incantations when i kick mad flavor, but i’ve been that dangerous
even on a weekend gotta get that paper
i just sit back labor on this rap page
i don’t give a ixnay bout a hater. y’all
are basic, all day on the internet. i
be firing ak rounds on a level infinite
tell them hoes “back the f-ck up,” but yo, i’m
still ‘tryna get in them panties
drafting a rap pattern in black and
white like closed captioned, then crafting
a mosaic of paint for the rhyme palette
passing the time by expanding your mind psychoactively
kaleidoscope for your thoughts like eye candy
connecting the dots, no need for checking the box information
the flavor my crew slang rude like wu-tang
we cranks tha’ bass to rock
the spot harder than two tanks while i be
dispersing verses like campbells
out of food banks

- yung zainer

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