knight mayor, rap like yash – fukemup lyrics
[knight mayor]
you know i’m the one, of a kind, a k
smoked as a ritual, then ashed k’s tray
the one, knight mayor, dares see light
‘fore i put him in film, by k, a cassette
he coughing, sure for i p+ss on him at grave
yeah i am alive to make you face h+ll
i measured your angles when your es slid front
time’s up, you dead, you who called us angels
i murdered the freaks, sh+t, blame my reflex
yeah i chopped off the ties, they were nevеr steel belts
i pity my opps, we ain’t really squarе matched
always had hands up, sweep them a clean check
they so back in the cycle, literally pretexts
hit the bullseye on ’em when ask for beef sh+t
p+ssies all be bleeding when km f+kemup
out of pure detest, no need for no re+tests
remember the name mayor still made it bumpy
i see p+ssies lurking, when glance the c+ntry
i ask god if they still on qwertys
or leaked out, seeing us they done squirting?
i, knight, be the king, i don’t step back
let p+ssies kiss ring, just ‘fore the edge taps
light work, i didn’t ever sweat jabs
but with towels thrown, i wipe red hands
[yash]
get my pen straight for the spiralled f+ggots
shame that my rhymes match my rivals’ flag huh
the timers lack, you can’t stop my reign
and i’m deep in this sh+t like a submarine
and ‘cuz i really f+kemup, can’t just stop here
and the sh+t’s repetitive that you call top tier
keep it more real than your image on socials
your fans don’t make noise, maybe your woofers
you work shifts, i take all fs, you can’t rock em
bleed us y’all? got k with me often
you got knight blindness, ain’t gettin’ no as
we outperformin’ when we f+cking mock ’em
that discography seems like cl+stered up cr+p huh
the music you listenin’? that’s dumbf+ckin’ mashup
sh+t’s not original cuz you sucking lamb herds
content creators not muhf+ckin’ rappers
copy and paste. y’all have nothing to rap ’bout
bars freakin’ flat and also you lack thought
intolerant to bullsh+t, break all your new t++th
can’t climb the roof here. guess you just lack toes
answer your whys with y morons
and the key to the lock ain’t thy, no not
shoot all your faults, take the loot, use the glock
amused are all bops, you can cry for long
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