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The 3rd Kind - Sofa King

[Intro: BlakkJakk (The Rhymer)]
Yeah, yeah
Throw in that butter real quick, man
Make it real flavorful and all that
Yeah

[Verse 1: BlakkJakk (The Rhymer)]
Passionless rappers get casketed with no remorse
Was holdin' my spot until after it, show them off
Sworn by your sword, behind them, a trail of slain amateurs
The pen packed with coke and cannabis when he handle script
The rhetoric reflects off they teachin'
They probably underrated, no, they the pride of their region
Season the spoken word, that's The Kind elevated
From dope to complex, from quotes and context
With an LV Richard's flow
So, my shit's designed to stretch
Check my lines and text, be like 9s and TECs
F airplay, The Kind get divine respect
Said it took some time craftin' this God's gift
Roller coaster ride, emergency break to train wreck, uh
But from that, emerged greatness
Attention was well underpaid like a blank check
They base steps off history's past tracks
They wonder how we make leaps and bounds without lookin' back
Bound to be the greatest, we studied from the best of them
You must be irrelevant to question his intelligence
We lift off, rip raw, best acknowledge he's been deaf to you and yours
More sleepy hollow than hollow tips
Come on, Joe, you've really got to be kiddin'
Waitin' to blow up, we givin' them aneurysms
Quick with the remedies and rhythms and the writtens
I be kickin' this lyrical ammunition
[Verse 2: JaY STeeZ]
Yo, peep the rhyme, used to do this in the leisure time
Read the fine print, I redefine writin' easy lines
First Amendment, lethal coerce of penmanship
With or without a pen, I proceed to exert my excellence
I'm excellin' in more rhymes and rugged raps
Without holdin' a duffle bag or bustin' caps
You frontin', man, I'ma do it 'til my lungs collapse
And blow way ahead of my time, Tunguska blast
You really thinkin' you ahead of me, dude?
My competition was dead before I stepped in the booth
If there was some competition, excuse them from condescendin'
But I have been kinda settin' some tension for my contenders
At least, what's left of them
'Cause many men have been turned into excrement, hah
Regurgitate rappers
Ain't just an amateur if you worthy of battlin'
I'm crossin' off names with an asterisk
The mic check is like a vise-grip to grab your limb
I gave a "Much obliged" for the wordplay
Along with a bag of ice and a first aid
Won't believe he's underage and he's that ill
But you will surprised by the range of this cat's skill
Come on, homie, get a clue
Spittin' a written, the vividest individual
Showin' what my pen will do would get rid of you
Five words: "I am so fuckin' lyrical"

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