outro

Well.. it looks like this is it. You've reached the end of this mixtape or project.

Yeah, this is the outro. A lot of names and shit I wanna get out the way to wrap this up.

Let me start with the R.I.Ps

Apologies if I forgot any names

Capital Steez, R.I.P.

Mac Miller, R.I.P.

XXXTENTACION, R.I.P.

Ol Dirty Bastard, R.I.P.

Big L, R.I.P.

Guru, R.I.P.

Prodigy, R.I.P.

Proof, R.I.P

J Dilla, R.I.P.

Sean Price, R.I.P.

Nipsey Hussle, R.I.P.

Pop Smoke, R.I.P.

King Von, R.I.P.

Fredo Santana, R.I.P.

Tupac, R.I.P.

Biggie, R.I.P.

R.I.P. to my grandma, my grandpa, Aunt Anne, Aunt Patty, Aunt Louise, Grandma Hattie

R.I.P. to my brothers and sisters, Dorian Edwards, Chris Dawson, Shanee Arrington, Marquez Stokes, Cierra Williams, Kera Barnes-Spells, Jay'na Freeman, Dolores Cirino, Rosa Perez

Now let's get to the shoutouts, the people that influenced me, held it down for me, the whole nine yards

Again, apologies if I forgot any names

Coop (Cooper Smith)

A Hype

lil reaper

Young Liu

Verysickbeats

Gulleyboy

Amiri

Isaiah the Playah

BlackySpeakz

Shakamania X

TXMMY G

Reggie COUZ

Clear Soul Forces (Noveliss, in particular)

9th Wonder

Rapsody

Little Brother

AFRO

Joey Badass

Pro Era

Odd Future (Earl, Tyler)

Chief Keef

Trippie Redd

Griselda (Westside Gunn)

Denzel Curry

Ski Mask the Slump God

The Underachievers

Action Bronson

Logic

Kendrick Lamar

Joyner Lucas

J. Cole

Drake

Rick Ross

Gucci Mane

Waka Flocka Flame

Big Sean

Wu Tang Clan

Mobb Deep

Gang Starr (DJ Premier)

Mos Def

Talib Kweli

Slum Village

Black Moon

Boot Camp Clik

Pharoahe Monch

Dipset

Onyx

Eminem

Royce da 5'9"

M.O.P.

Jedi Mind Tricks

Masta Ace

Canibus

Three 6 Mafia

Pete Rock

MF DOOM

Lil Wayne

Nas

Jay-Z

Timbaland

Missy Elliott

And most important of all... you.

7

Repeat offenders, ya'll offend me when you repeat

The same flows over and over, sounding so stupidly

And thinking for a second you gon blow up like Jubilee

Truthfully, ain't no fucking comparing you to me

You the Cain to my Abel

I'm lyrically unstable

You keep on spitting fables

And you gon' get disabled

Like wi-fi

Say bye-bye

Punch you so hard, have your chest looking like a shirt styled like tie-dye

You probably bitchin'

'Bout this flow that I'm probably spittin'

But in the flesh, you better stay silent like Molly Picon

Microphones and beats, I eat 'em up like teriyaki chicken

And continue this until I'm 33 like Scottie Pippen

This is lyrical massacre

When I blast with the

45 flows that crush your cardiovascular

Rhymes spectacular

Words get flipped like a spatula

King Arthur of rap, the mic is my Excaliber

The worthless and nervous

Get wrecked by dangerous verses

Have them begging for nurses

I take them beneath the surface

Like the Genius when I come with the liquid sword

Slicing off the fucking cord

To your mic, and next, your vocal cords

Then, your career, it's a wrap like tortillas

Your whole style is shitty like diarrhea

My style's tactical

Total disaster to rappers who

Are laughable

Lyrics that are filled with jokes practical

You Norbits better forefit

Or get thrown into orbit

All the rhymes I'm recordin'

Comin' out slicker than fuckin' porpoise

When I drop bombs like Japan

Your career's deader than Shan

Tryna say you my man

Bruh, you was never a fan

You just a clout demon

Because you sucking on my dick so much, your lips is probably dripping out semen

Love the way I make niggas cry without Freeman

When I spit so disrespectfully without reason

Rhymes harder than titanium

Beats pounding to your cranium

Killing more rappers than uranium

Ain't he him? T-E-K 22

The rapper from Wide Awake that you niggas will soon be bumping to

Hook

This beat is perfect, this flow is perfect

Remember where you heard this, this shit's so perfect

Dark like Joanna, leave you dripping like a nigga from Atlanta

Ya'll niggas is some hoes like Santa 

second2020rhyme

Step into the lion's den, you'll never see the sky again
All you can hear is a woman playing sad violin
When I find the pen, I'm a leviathan
When I spit, there's no limit to the levels that I can go higher than
Even at a monumental peak, I can retire men
While you lack the nutrients, minerals, and the vitamins
To match this violence
Try to diss me, never rhyme again
Press R to try again, and I'mma make sure that you'll die again

I am him, Yung Tek

Who's comparable to Earl; Sweatshirt or Simmons

When he spit like lemons

Against robotic rappers when he damage their systems

They can't handle this wisdom

Like a target, you missed him

But I'm back like 6ix9ine on my grid-ind

And once and for all, I'mma kill em all with this rhyme

That I spit with determination

Fuck the perpetration
This is verbal extermination

To them herbs that's hatin'

firstrhymein2020

You can't get with the
Way I spit with antipathy
Grab the mic like it's the Symphony
I have zero sympathy
For you shit MCs
With weak infantries
Fronting on social media, but your heart beats like a timpani
But faster like the Daytona
I'm hotter than Arizona
2020, my name 'bout to spread like Corona
Virus
Ya'll thought I was dead, I'm back like Osiris
If I keep grinding, I might get a greenthumb like Cypress
Hill, niggas better chill, because I'll still
Kill tracks with the shit that's real
Addicts better pop some fucking pills
I don't mean percs, talking 'bout instruments
Prodigy raising Havoc like the Mobb that's Infamous
When I bring Hell on Earth with rhymes hotter than Texas
Hit you harder than a strike to the solar plexus
This ain't Lil' Baby music; this is straight bars
Trying to battle me, hope you know what the stakes are
Every track I'm on, I shine like a Quasar
When I spit, I let off a full clip like Gang Starr
Trying to be one of the best yet, peace to Guru
Never lie on a song like a rapper that's fufu
Telling fables, what's to blame is the labels
Acting like they're bringing new shit to the table
Like fabrication is what's hot
Talking about how many thots they fucked, or opps they shot
Or racks they got
Hip-hop now's full of imposters
Niggas wanting Grammy's; they ain't even worth an Oscar
Faking the funk for a dollar
While the real ones doomed to an eternity of living in squalor