HOOK
Stackin rhymes
Y'all can peep the catalogue
Maker's Mark, Texas Hold Em with the tarot cards
Kick a fly verse
Then these bastards gone
Thick women n mics is what I'm smashin on

Cynic The Apache:
Terabyte to the back of the head stashin files
After a while, you guaranteed to say these crackers wild
In the spots where the OG's scratchin vinyl
Crushin concrete, crackin tiles
My head's wrapped with wires

Rapswell:
We on the track by Squires, flatten your tires
Me n Cynic be the reason that these rappers retired
Hang it up, we'd had enough of hearing that you slangin drugs
The world's fucked, it ain't wrong if you blamin us

Cynic:
Playin the cut in the corner poppin a molly cap
Rockin a Stalin 'stache
Old school, Hollis Ave
Told you, we never droppin stacks on gold jewels
Royalty raisin their glasses up to make a toast to

Rapswell:
My whole crew feisty like a young Pacino
Yo we runnin the casino, soon to blow like Gus Fring tho
Deeper than the voice of Bun B goes, amigos
Drinkin vino with some guidos screamin out "Rumino!!!"

HOOK

Cynic:
Tired of these kids flashin average bars
Carrying cannons like they been havin Samus' arm
Once the barrier's crossed, guaranteed they sportin soiled chinos
Tryna find my fortune, vacation up in resorts, casinos
Maybe a villa, makin a killin droppin dominos
With a mafiosa out on the Almafi coast
Fuck rockin a sloppy flow, we bonifed
Real Rap Raw
So that mask you wearin, peel that off
Who you foolin, sippin on grapes, publishing music
Need the best never settle for less, no substitutions

Rapswell:
Kinetically, I approach the mic with a pedigree
Always on a quest to be a better MC
Sittin in the park on some Motown type doo wop
Words spark like an oowop, you do not
Jam with the technique, nasty with the etiquette
Stay grimy like a third world settlement
Represent

HOOK

Cynic:
Dodging bullets, breakin limbs
Like I been trainin in the Matrix with the Agent Smith
Fuck a DVD, I rock a laser disc
Spittin heinous shit that makes you sick
You better take it with a grain of salt
We watch your brain dissolve

Rapswell:
Paint a portrait, you poor kids should forfeit
Get off it, you on some baby dick sorta soft shit
Poppin pills like Morpheus I'm awfully sick
Thinkin dark thoughts, go into a coffin to spit
I'm an ill guy, drop science like Bill Nye
Spittin like I'm a llama til these muthafuckas realize
It feels nice to kick mathematics
Kicked most of my bad habits except I'm still a rap addict
Quit spittin, and in six minutes

Cynic:
Yo we back at it
Spasmadic up on the stage, they tell us relax
Get slap happy
We gainin capital off these tracks
Addicted to the mics, we put em down but then we relapse

HOOK