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I. Just. Keep. Improving.
lyrics
‘Bring Back The Witty ('Increase The Gritty' REMIX)’
Y'all been sufferin' long enough, look what they spewin' at you
It's good that kid Print is back to send a new one at you
I got more verses than the Book of Matthew
Fuck bars, I'm droppin' 50 ft. solid gold Buddha statues
Dude I'll smash you; none of ya raps stick wit' me
+Nick+ wit' me another, I will snap Stick Stickly
Yeah, I know I'm too damn nit-picky
But it's 'cause these new cats gettin' out-rapped by Sam Witwicky
Hol' up, fam let's get busy, SAVAAR's gettin' lit
But they still sleepin' like my flow's a barbiturate
On God, I'm wit' the shit, oh God, don't diss the kid
I'm so hard, you get the dick, that's no pause -- you listened, kid
It's been hinted at, I'm a legend in the making
29 projects, get obsessed wit' what I'm making
A seven in the ranking, but aimin' for five or better
Got me strivin' more than ever, to survive an' weather
The storm, full-steam ahead, watch the dough mount
As the king/King pens it like Richard Bachman or Thad Beaumount
The kid's... head an' shoulders above the rest
An' like Simone Biles wit' Shaq, you barely come up to my chest
I could be another Budden, another Bank$, another Andretti
You cannot can Eddie
Cannot ban or threaten me, stop playin' an' sweatin' me
Not playin' or frettin', B; stop playin' wit' weaponry
'Cause the safety is off, you might spray at ya' thoughts
An' Print is a .38 -- turn ya' brains into sauce
You actin' like I ain't gon' kill 'em all
All these lines in my mind, but I ain't gon' spill 'em all
Seal 'em off, they can't come an' beseech me
Dyin' for a feature, frauds runnin' to greet me
The lames couldn't beat me, tried to force me to forfeit
But my wordplay's galactic an' it knocked 'em outta orbit
Got - more shit to crush 'em wit', tell 'em pick they poison
These them bars from the kid, runnin' through my organs
Be somethin' called skill, these fools tend to lack it nowadays
Nepotism only reason for their backin' nowadays
I'm - back up out that haze, rejuvenated, refocused
Let my people go, or I'll bring a plague of locusts
Upon the lecherous oafs wit' no lyrics
Bramble-headed morons, killin' ya' spirit
You - hear it on the regular, it be that bad
But I'm a tough muthafucka, Marine stepdad
So, rest in peace to Proof an' all who kept it gritty
Fineprint is done, I had to bring back the witty
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