LitM IV: Legend in the Making IV (#IAmTheKing)

by Fineprint Misread aka SAVAAR

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The last piece of the puzzle for the "LitM" series. Going out with a bang and embarking on into new territory. #VIBE to the sounds and #ENJOY. This is only the beginning of something new.

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released October 20, 2016

Fearless Heights

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Fineprint Misread Memphis, Tennessee

Born January 11, 1988 in Memphis, TN; Eddie White (Known as Fineprint Misread) always wanted to be entertainer. Whether it was through acting, poetry or music, he knew he wanted to shine. He started out with aspirations of being a comic book artist and poet, but the poetry part soon turned into rapping. At the present time, he's perfecting his craft as an artist. Stay tuned. ... more

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Track Name: Axes 2 Grind (Return to the Throne): The LitM IV Intro
"Axes 2 Grind (Return To The Throne)"

Verse 1:
Fineprint's back, an' he still got more +pride+ than a lion's seed
That emcee you try to be, fuck off wit' that tryin' me
Denyin' me a sought after claim - I will kill for
Like I ain't bearin' down wit' full weight on this nation's pulse
Wit' the tip of a steeltoe
Ready to - curb stomp 'em in the jugular vein
An' see if they bleed skill, that real raw shit
Like cannibals indulgin' in fecal appetites
You fools only clap for hype
But when it comes to the truth that I often write, I find myself
Teeter-totterin' 'tween here an' the afterlife
An' truth hurts, so it must burn when you grab the light
You daftly write, I strike like death adders
Locked-on like fighter jets; the best batter
You just buntin', I'm smackin' homeruns
Nigga, you gross nothin', I amass the whole sum
Grab the whole Sun, fireballs in my palm
Drop it on that ass like a Spirit Bomb, here it comes
A hot spitta like Andretti, got a searin' tongue
Fierce flow to the track's body 'til I sear it's lung
You know it's dopeness when you hear me on
An' wit' collabs, I'm the dopest on; nobody's near me, holmes
Often hold back like Superman, peep these nigga's forms
Then drop some bombs just to complement an' get 'em warm

Verse 2:
Got axes to grind into the spines, of backstabbers an' naysayers
Reason why I'm barely a team player
I've run across too many in my lifetime
Tumors in my life, once thought to be benign
It's too many old rappers wit' - chips on they shoulder
Mad because they flows ain't gettin' any colder
Stuck in the past wit' outdated production
Don't know how to switch it up, needin' deconstruction
Admittedly, I get - complacent like these dolts
But soon realize insanity gets no results
Update my nuts an' bolts, apply oil where the joints creak
Then come annoint the beat
See, my style may be, kinda reminiscent
Of 90's Hip-Hop, but a lot is much different
'Cause I mix it wit' the modern, an' to some that's a problem
But I'm done tryna please elitists stuck at the bottom
Fa'real...
Track Name: Where Were U?: 64 Shots 2 The Dome [Over A Beat By Metro Boomin}
"Where Were U?: 64 Shots 2 The Dome"

Where the fuck were you when I was up in that asylum?
Where the fuck were you when I was feelin' suicidal?
Nigga where were you when all my stresses kept pilin'?
I know where you was, pro'lly somewhere out there smilin'
Where the fuck were you when niggaz claim they had beef?
Nigga where were you? I could have been dead up in these streets
Where yo' ass was at when fools was threatenin' my moms?
Where yo' ass was at? Scared to dirty up ya palms
Where the fuck were you when I was out here self-harmin'?
All you did was talk down on me, bein' smarmy
Fuck where you was at, I can do without the blarney
An' the snarky-ass remarks; you gets no pardon
Niggaz ain't shit, man, they see you out here starvin'
Instead of tryna help, they roadblockin' an' barrin'
Then wanna get mad when you - throw 'em in ya bars an'
Exclude 'em out ya' future; man, that's just karma
This niche I've been carvin', to reap what I've been farmin'
Is my main source of topic, but to some, it seems I'm harpin'
While them niggaz just LARPin', I'm gettin' my bars sharpened
Get my Moses on wit' this mic, an' start partin'
These seas - that nonbelievers wanna drown me in
Keep me in a funk, that's more putrid than downwind
But I Chumbawumba haters; when I'm down, I get back up again
An' keep it notated in my mind to never fuck wit' them
Don't need that dead weight, already got a load
An' it's on me like Atlas, but the pressure fuckin' my back up
It's a must I get these racks up, money by any means
Reason why I've had my sights set on this industry
See, I could get this deal, make all this shit real
But folks in my circle don't seem to get the appeal
Of why I wanna shine, be paid, have it made, laid in the shade
Sippin' on bourbon-spiked lemonade
Get my momma out this hellhole, move her into a manor
Cop her - that Jaguar she's wanted since I was in pampers
But, Negative Nancys put a damper on my goals
Tryna stick me wit' a mediocre 9-to-5 payroll
An' nah, that ain't how I'm built: I was born to shine
Been at this since I heard "My Name Is" in '99
Started wit' poetry, later hit my growth spurt
When I repeated the 9th an' Jed left my ego hurt
After that, I worked harder, 'cause I felt Hip-Hop
Was my only outlet as well as ticket out this shit-shop
That's my life, of monotony an' bad choices
Wrestlin' wit' demons an' - hearin' voices
Night after night, psychosis gettin' the best of me
I'm wicked, so you know there's no rest for me
An' e'rybody like to think they know what's best for me
Like a nigga can't think for himself; it's stress for me
So I just grind by my lonely, an' pay them no mind
Workin' like that +Little Red Hen+, awaitin' time
For my bread to leaven, then I'll break it wit' those
Who never turned they back on me or sided wit' my foes
Don't be like that +grasshopper+, starvin', stuck in the cold
Watchin' the +ant+ who's well-prepared, reap - all he has sowed
All Summer '16, in good taste; 'cause workin' today
Means you eat tomorrow -- go hard for that buffet
An' this shit ain't just bars, this Print givin' you jewels
But it's up to you how you use gems relayed to you
All I offer up is what I've learned from the OG's
Those who came before me in the game an' staked their claim
See, what counts is how you work yo' flame
An' get yo' shot; careful of those who will jerk yo' chain
Wit' nonsense, charlatans talkin' louder - than Charlamagne Tha God
Is you finish or is you done? Where ya' at? Let's get it, son
Track Name: A King's Thoughts <Interlude> [Over A Beat By Albie Dickson x TrakkSounds}
"A King's Thoughts <Interlude>"

Time is money, an' mine's lookin' like a Audemar
But I spend it writin' my arm off givin' y'all the bars
When it's time to drop, where the fuck are y'all?
Claimin' you fans, but never there to give me my applause
I work hard for that credit, put the time in
Steadily inclinin', losin' myself in the process
Hopin' I don't start declinin' or get obsessed
Wit' workin' too hard to prove myself to non-believers
They wanna write me off, put me wit' odds an' ends
But one's trash, is another's treasure
Too deep for one to fathom wit' inadequate measure
But some find pleasure, in proddin' me into the deep end
Into a cesspool, but that's where I found my crown
Pluckin' jewels from it when I write rhymes down
See, it ain't about bars anymore
An' honestly, it ain't really that hard anymore
Used to make enemies, now there's no more beef
If I don't like you, just don't like you; let it be
That's time an' energy better spent on fresher concepts
I leave the ana in the past, under rug swept
I push it forward, buildin' a future wit' my girl
Givin' her a hard time, but she know-- she my world
It's always off an' on, we act like kids
Petty is, as petty does, on that brat-type shit
Only Lord knows why we act like this
Cussin', each other out, then come back wit' a kiss
A bunch of I love you's an' apologies
To erase the fuck you's an' the mockery
I must admit, sometimes it slows me down
But despite it, she's the only one who holds me down
Mainly why I never left her for Genea; she holds the crown
The queen to my fuckin' king, she knows her ground
It's partially because of her that I growed my sound
Matured wit' my content, to explode an' astound
She's the drivin' force for my grind
An' the voice in mind keepin' me level-headed
Everything she does for me, vow to give it back
Five-hundredfold, that's why I gotta get these racks
Stacked up, I been procrastinatin' too long
Most wonder why I haven't moved on
From this fledglin' career, but I'm dead sincere
This been my passion, since I - was prepubescent
Above average intelligence, but a genius of burden
Wasn't meant to be like Ben Carson, the brain surgeon
But I ain't hurtin', I remain inclined
To bless this world wit' the novels, art an' rhymes I design
10-5 told me the other day, I really got my craft down
I'm happy someone acknowledges my crack now
I don't do this shit for nothin'-- I love the accolades
For the tracks I've made, a few have even got me paid
An' there lies the key to a brighter future
I hold that doorway in my hand, watch me write the future

It's Fineprint...
Track Name: My Way (Remix of Fetty Wap's Song)
"My Way"

Yeah... just wanna see you draped in ya nakedness
Maybe keep them heels on ya feet while I sex ya, miss
Do my duty in the kitty; girl, I'm straight finessin' it
Pope Fineprint, sanctus, sanctus -- baby blessin' it
Whooo... yeah, I swear I'm all in my zone
E'rytime we talk on the phone, just wanna get you all alone
On some Robin Thicke shit, got my dick all throbbin' just to get in it quick
Hit the clit wit' major force, you like it rough, we got the kismet
Uh, yeah... we gon' break the board like a monster dunk
Energized, feelin' like I'm Monster drunk
Get me in my feelings, I'ma make love to it
We gon' do it 'til you sweat out every ounce of protein fluid
Uh... I gotta be a bit of a nerd
But you know I'm still a roughneck, you ain't fuckin' wit' no herb
Baby I'm saucin', like my swag got secret herbs
An' I ain't talkin' no fashion, just these bars that ya heard
Aye, say baby won't you come my waaaay
Ain't no games that I'm tryin' to plaaaay
You on my team, baby home or awaaaay
There's nothin' more I've got to saaaay
Finito...
Track Name: #SILENCE (For The King) [Over A Beat By Scram Jones}
"#SILENCE (For The King)"

Verse 1:
An' I'm still, blazin' this trail - barefoot
Walkin' this harsh road, bleedin' liters e'ry square foot
You can find me there in the trenches, kickin' on e'ry snare put
Step on foes toes, no fucks given 'bout their foot
In the field heavy like shotputs, encounter the gamble
Where roses wit' thorns, lead to mountainous bramble
An' - crabs will pull you down like slot machine levers
I'm sick of the noise, so if it's not serene? Sever
Needin' all that silence to think clearly
Meditatin' on the act of leavin' y'all behind
My goals - too big for goalies to get in there an' block
Aimin' high an' still hit the net wit' a trick shot
See... this not just 'bout havin' my wrist rocked
But I pity those who don't want big money in Hip-Hop
So it's silly to put the city on 'em an' get rocked
Let 'em wallow in mediocrity, swallowin' cocks while they shit flop

Verse 2:
I'm still in line to burn 'em up, will not rest 'til my journey's up
'Fore I lie, catch a hernia; put ya' stacks an' ya journal up
Steady puttin' that murder up, anyone will concur wit' thus
Don't shit on the message, it's best to side wit' the courier
Uhn, career funeral, got half a mind to bury ya'
For all that shit you poppin', actin' like that crap will further ya'
My heart's on hypothermia, love's not what you're worthy of
Said this earlier: No fucks given; pro'lly blurred to ya'
Let's keep it a buck: Ain't no one out here scared of ya'
Just a bunch of pups wit' the bite of a toothless terrier
So that should clear the air for ya', not one soul in ya' area
Is threatened by ya' trash talk from behind a barrier
Bein' successful is the best revenge
A dish that's best served cold, ergo: Goin' Diamond
But still accept Platinum, rhymin' adept fat hymns
Slept on 'cause y'all slackin', disrespectin' an' yackin'
Interjectin' wit' tantrums, I'll intellectually flatten
Any jester in action; the texture of thee is satin
Conceptually, you chicken shit, in the shape of a bantum
The king is back, so kneel like Kaepernick wit' the anthem
Track Name: #CominFromThe901 (Crown Me)
"#CominFromThe901 (Crown Me)"

Niggaz so fake, watch 'em break like plastic in the hand
They can't stomach me, I corrode 'em, turn they gastric into sand
Yeah, he on top now, but I'll be laughin' at ya' man
Pretty soon, on ya' ave, from a Phantom, that's the plan
See I talk to 'em tough, watch me punk 'em out wit' bars
These niggaz couldn't make it wit' the munchkins out in Oz
From a real grimey city, niggaz dumpin' out of cars
The fuckin' 901, where they be pumpin' out the stars
Think we ain't tough, or that the M's a safehaven
Factually, you better off in "Nightmares" by Wes Craven
Suggest you get low - like jet fighters strafe sprayin'
They'll pop you, an' not care less; I'm just sayin'
It's poverty an' drama, trauma an' depression
All these factors mixed together equate heavy aggression
Movin' on impulse, fixated to drastic measures
Unregistered iron tethered to the hip, never severed
The murders keep climbin', an' we only 8 months in
2016, let's annotate that then
Since 2009, shit keeps gettin' thicker
Basically since Herenton left office-- get the picture?
Good an' bad days flicker like lights durin' thunderstorms
Makin' most knuckle under an' conform
The hood'll reform you if you were raised wit' good intentions
Have you switchin' sides on ya' mission
+Bad boys+ in the 9 wanna +shine/Shyne+ like The Commission
Been this way since Project Pat was gorilla pimpin'
Tellin' you get the fuck up off 'em like Gangsta Blac
Keep somethin' tucked, don't get erased off the map
See, I ain't a gangsta, but I ain't no joke either
Don't have me makin' +choices/Choices+ like La'Chat an' T-Rock
Shoutout to Proficient, see we been rockin' since Cross of Calvary
The Mighty M.o.R-- don't cross the calvary
Folks have often doubted me, but now I'm on the path to make it
So - +when the smoke clears+, you gon' see +who run it+
A +Legend in the Making+, +tailor/Taylor made+ like +Da Undaground King+
Sendin' fissures thru the underground scene...

Heh, kiss the ring an' fuckin' crown me...
Track Name: Bars Goin' Crazy (#CutTheCheck)
"Bars Goin' Crazy (#CutTheCheck)"

Verse 1:
Cut from a cloth ya arms an' legs couldn't purchase
Beauty's only skin deep, yet I'm bringin' it to the surface
In my veins is the essence of flow, energy surgin'
A walk in my shoes'll leave you fools bruised an' burnin'
I see you - dudes ain't learnin', but I'm less concerned wit'
Droppin' - repeated knowledge on that ass, that's earnest
It's the return of the - "Legend in the Making": Blessed, awakened
Fresh an' blazin', direct, on point, impressive an' amazin'
Wrote this rhyme wit' Rihanna's vaginal fluids; too cocky
Is Fine e'ry time rappin' his music
Keep ya heads +spiralin'+ just like, "Uzumaki"
An' ringin' wit' bats in ya belfry -- Lord, help me
These streets wicked, poppin' more tops than Pringles
So I urge you: Keep heat on ya' side, like shingles -- ugh
I need registers to ring an' jingle, jewels to blind an' bling
Proof of doin' my thing

Hook(x2):
Got them, bars ready an' they goin' crazy (Goin' crazy)
Got them, bars ready an' they goin' crazy (So crazy)
Got them, bars ready an' they goin' crazy
So just cut the check an' pay me (Fuck the bullshit)

Verse 2:
Dumbin' it down a notch, might lose y'all niggaz
An' the last thing I want is to confuse y'all niggaz
It ain't really much else to prove, y'all niggaz
Arms too short to box -- Foosball figures
Who's y'all niggaz? Who juiced y'all niggaz?
Pumped y'all heads up like Spalding vulcanized rubber
Consult my rhymes, for the, bulk of lines smothered
Wit' sauce, to live long an' prosper -- no, Vulcan sign, brother
Forget that line 'bout - dumbin' it down
I'm comin' around, loaded an' cocked; tongue is a pound
Verbally dumpin' at clowns, comin' for crowns
An' I ain't speakin' dental work, aimin' for ya mentalworks
Let the Oowop pop, Doo-wop ya' head like Joc's do
Bustin' like wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom
Ain't no Glocks, it's tunes
Swallow ya' pride, you obnoxious goons

Hook(x2)

Verse 3:
Y'all are - not on my level, or my league -- get ya' brakes tweaked
Print's like a firearm -- off safety
He's - itchin' to blow, a pistol of chrome
Shinin' an' glistenin', wit' a rubber grip on him though
Cocked back, hair trigger wit' a fully loaded clip
The hammer bang an' gray matter will stain like holy shit
It's holy spit, but god isn't my title; I'm a seraph
Verbally blazin', finish 'em off like a serif
The words more +symbolic+ than Wingdings by Charles Bigelow
Got 'em yellin' "Bomaye, nigga! Flow!"
So I - kill 'em slow, like high sodium an' radon outputs
You can sit ya crayon down, putz
This bout is kaput, see Print keep it +live+, like
I'm Chevy Chase an' you're not
Got heavy base, a pure drop on the track, that's crack
An' ya' ears receivin' this fix
If you receivin' this mix, then you receivin' me goin'
Dumber - than Keak Da Sneak an' 40 in a Scraper
Bars goin' crazy, tweakin' more than faders
I'm weak to borin' haters, but the speech is born of greatness
Track Name: The Fineprint Experience: #ThoughtsofaGIANT, Pt. IV (A 64 Bar Outro)
"The Fineprint Experience: #ThoughtsofaGIANT Pt. IV (64 Bars)"

Open wide, focused more; opportunity can't knock, I'm a open door
This deeper than rap, like a ocean floor; go for the gusto, what I'm hopin' for
Spit hardcore rhymes til my throat is sore; Print on his grizzy like a open store
On Black Friday, back to my way -- in need of so much more
Not washed-up, chillin' on the shore, gettin' my mind right for the path ahead
Path I dread, the road to riches, an' baddest bitches chillin' in my bed
Got me a wifey, so you know, still dream 'bout models an' video hoes
Shit I never had as a adolescent, on this journey, after blessings
Ain't the tightest though my touch is Midas; 100 miles an' runnin' wit' arthritis
That's a footnote, peep the asterisk, massive asshole, sweet ass to kiss
No homo though, got a homo flow, 'cause it fucks wit' niggaz in they bung-a-hole
Lot of butthurt, an' I won't say pause, all y'all pussy, claw guards on ya paws
Body y'all, leave ya wrapped in gauze; light it all up like Farhenheit
451 - expose it all - like 9/11... prepare the flight
Surrender now or prepare to fight, Team Rocket, Team Magma or Team Flare
Grizzly, bitch, the meanest bear; sew the game up, leave no seam bare
Crime scene cleaner, leave no trace there, when I body y'all like Gohan did Cell
Hope my father hears, see yo' son did well; clobbered fears, make the bondange fail
Shackles fall, the beast back an' raw, send 'em dashin' off like Usain Bolt
40 miles per hour, smiles turn sour -- that nigga 2 Chainz dope
Ain't got ghostwriters, but skeletons in my closet
wit' Edgar Allen hands, they write the darkest novels
About my life, see I lost it; a walkin' Shady song
+Til I Collapse+ an' lose the will to write an' make these songs
I admit, lately I'm threatened by every flow I hear
Feels like I can't keep up, cut the mustard, the doubt appears
Prefer to rap about my life, it's real dark an' gloomy
Most days are kind of mundane, they keep me real moody
I'm snappin', irritated, goin' off on all my friends
Whether they forgive a nigga, I guess that all depends
Ain't got no place in this game, guess I'm the odd man out
Take me back to 9th grade, feel like droppin' out
Ain't new school or old school, I'm after school, this bastard's rude
Hope my dream works/Dreamworks, like the family Croods; acquired taste, hope it captures you
Some lines are corny, but they work for me, got steez to pull it off
Wear a mask, can't pull it off, like Scooby Gang, let a bullet off
Fineprint Experience firsthand, thin skin an' jelly spine
Sometimes I feel like Ronnie Ray, hearin' voices, not Martin Stein
They lapped me quick, not far behind though; just 2 inches behind yo
Rugged Timbs, eat dust from him; two fingers thrown, but I'm not a gyno
I know I ain't the illest to ever grace this beat
But see I did my thing, strap in once you take a seat
I is smart, I is important, but still I need +The Help+
All those who bailed on me, another notch in my belt
I know I gotta go harder, if I plan on makin' it farther
But these obstacles around, make me question why I bother
I do this for my future, I need my self straight
Gotta stand on my own two, get outta this stalemate
I don't have a failsafe, so if I don't succeed
There is no "don't succeed", I put that on my Mead
Five Star, no five mics, deserve them for rhymes I write
Starvin' for - limelight, flip fingers - mime type
Middle fingers up, wanna bend the block, in a clean Bens, big body like Viscera
Kit it out, TVs in the dash, watchin' anime wit' my chick, bruh
Throw on some Marvin an' stick her, we got it get it on
Dick her down like I'm Jake Steed, nut on a towel an' blaze weed
If you pissed off, pass a kidney stone, King Print is in the zone
Got a lot of envy, holmes, shit I'm learnin' to leave alone
I gotta be more supportive, have all my people's backs
Like they be havin' mine, that's just a straight-up fact
I used this beat for expression, tryin' to calm the tyrant
What you hearin' now - are thoughts of a GIANT
Legend in the Making 4, pro'lly the last one
64 Bars atcha neck, nigga my ass done
It's Fineprint..