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j the writer – slam piece 1 lyrics

[verse]
let me introduce myself, no fights here
i’m a struggling pill addict that suffers from night terrors
nightmares of me losing my kid, that’s life yeah
but it wouldn’t be a thought if that b-tch ain’t put the light there
i’m right here
i’m talking to you, talkin to dude
talking to every f-cking body that is up in the room
i done seen a lotta sh-t, i done gone a couple ways
only to end right back after a couple of days
now that’s no insult to god, i ain’t an atheist
but i’m sending insults from the god, i’m bouta lay em quick
when the bars turn this star upside down, like he a satanist
spray the fifth, save it b-tch, you just can’t out sway the riff
he ain’t got no web connection i just cannot play with him
it’s funny, you see his ex got dropped up in his broad
but he think he a lil savage? i’m sending 21 bars
i spray the uzi, the mac, mill a fill up the pump
and i’m jetting off in the boat, you can see me a lil gone off the jump, but what’s up? is this too much?
i ain’t baring you to death, just know you got a target on ya head, after something you said
but
break bread with the enemies
shouts to the black lives that had to rest in peace
may you bless the streets without cooking up any recipes!
geez….
but back to the intricate, written sh-t, flipping syllables as the pen is gripped, let it rip, let its spray, aks weapon waist, defecate on the center stage pf the vmas on christina’s face
okay whoa j bro
they know you can rap and spit
they say you like em but man f-ck that rabbit sh-t
k bro
cuz the only reason i’m like rabbit is
cuz i’m an a hole
and that’s where a rabbit lives
yall some cabbage kids, swear you battling, til you get clapped up, man duck and you start pressin ya pal again!
i’m on tour again, spittin horrid sh-t like f-ck kinda tore he in
b-tch
ima valid d-ck
get to cloning him
the first in cl-ss, i’m the worst in rap cuz when i work its trash
these chicks can’t even twerk they -ss… wait
back it up
my f-ckin rappin sucks, cuz i send to many punches straight atchu, f-ck…
sorry, guess i’m allergic to bullsh-t
that’s why i sneezed, when i unleashed a full clip
please you foolish if you ain’t get it
when the pen is gripped to a feminist, if my d-cks a trigger for you? then please… pull it
and i’ll start shootin when you put ya mouth to it
a mal truant, ill bound you in a brownish tint of a pound of sh-t, you chips, so if i’m sending shots on my tab
that’s the only time i’ll bring you a round and dip
little clownish pr-ck
b-tt f-ck it, let me pound it in, -n-l
ah geez okay bro, if you say so, ima lay low
catch a fade if you spray though
from turks to caicos like galileo, send shots, from a mile away though…
its f-ck trump. that’s my way of being nice
cut him up with a knife, take his throat slit it twice, f-ck his wife, in the night then tell his daughter come on over, cuz you don’t wanna bother going home tonight…
bogus right? closed fists h-ttin ya nose and sight
i told you like, one you fine young ladies is hopefully coming home tonight
whoa that’s right
i was supposed to introduce myself
excuse my wealth, i’m just a 21 year college kid
who looks good as h-ll, but wait
topic prolly want me to spit some crazy slim shady wavy fugazzi sh-t, wait quick! his bars ring bells, dummy
weight lift?
so when i push e, i raise brows like a face lift
bold statement, bank shot, chase this
figured i’d drop an em bomb without flipping you off
when i clap n-gg-s it’s lights out, if you get to p-ssin me off, get it? bars tight like christian dior, glorious, for inch clips notorious spits, sh-t, i guess my bars just bigger than yours!
juicy-ier than -ss cheeks
you see, that gee?
willickers, shots k!lling ya, pac real enough, stop feeling us
do not pop sh-t at us, spew writtens like new kittens when i’m spittin
you p-ss-es bouta get f-cked… go nuts on these sl-ts, throw it up, gang signs will get chucked, like fitted jeans… tailored
guess i’m fly behind these bars, b-tch. jail bird
watch me smoke these dudes, blow em away with blunt punches, straight punches to the stomach, ima weed em out
leaving bleeding ow, why they looking sour…
don’t do drugs anymore, finally got f-cking divorced
freshman year laid high, f-cking dumped on the floor
couldn’t answer the door, now i’m f-cking addicted to syllables, flipping sh-t i’m the realest dude, undeniably the greatest, stakes b-tch? i’m un-k!llable
for the f-cking realest reason, if yall hearts tender, don’t get salty, it’s always the k!lling season
yall n-gg-s will get cooked, like thanksgiving dinner, you heard me?
i get bold and make you quiver on the third strike…. like a turkey, next of course, sh-ts like a bruce jenner surgery
took a set of b-lls..
caitlyn, i ain’t with the games you play
but i still train at the station
i’m hit her with dual shock when i select start
i wrap circles around these squares, i don’t care, yeah
f-ck lines nah son try angles. and hold her
she loves the way my fingers b-mp her b-ttons when she says to control her
d-mn, these some nice views
i’m sorry for the wait, but if you’re reading this it’s too late because nothing is the same anymore so yall can thank me later…
haters
hip hop
shop, bring the beef
catered
f-ck rap ima trump card
think?
later
i say a lot a crazy sh-t cuz i’m not a debater and this sh-t is not up for debate i’m the greatest, cold as the breeze cool as the wind, jay breeze, greater
you think you saved by the bell
screech!
i’m colder than ac slater
but aye b, i c you ready to get this d
and since the tanks running on e
ima have to f you late geez
hope you don’t got hi
nah i won’t finish, jk
i almost took that l, h-ll, whoa, i’m k!llin rappers that’s my m n o, so please mind your p’s and q’s if you choose, that’s real sh-t, rs
sh-t i got this rap sh-t down to a t, i deserve a raise
cuz i’m hot like uv. you can put a slash, behind the w, but not with my x
you asking why? my guy i’m sleep that’s all z’s
stay homely, every days holy
f-ck kylie and kendall i’ll make kris my ex-miss, cuz she didn’t make my bells jolly…
b-tches be cold, so i swear they beds frozen
when i empty the chamber of ls in, n-gg-s wilt like dead roses…. leanora, lean and orange, 3 or 4 of them rita ora’s a piece of horrid 3 inch orphans yall see me snoring, 4 your eyes only? that sh-t is boring, so ima leave with 4 words… greatest of all time that’s what you call it… the goat. josh breezzyy… buy my alb-m

- j the writer lyrics

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