No Name Cypher by Gradient Lyrics
I’m that no name loser who tries to write rhymes
But he can’t find any inside his blind mind
In his free time and he declines to pen lines
‘Til Nate texted me like “Tonight’s the deadline!
You got your verse written?”
Uhh… strictly speakin’, no
Even though he sent me the beat like three weeks ago
Nate I got you, don’t wait until the weekend yo
I’ll write a quick rap about how frickin’ weak I flow
Cause I suck; I’m the worst of my kind
I sound like Lil Wayne reading nursery rhymes
In my words you can find I’m a thief
So I’m robbin’ thick verses but worse, and I blurred many lines
Other rappers get hype and I know they’re real
So I won’t diss you, you’re nice and I notice skill
So trill, you’re the type that can close a bill
While I bite rappers like Mike did to Holyfield
I just make some inferior rap stuff
It’s no wonder there’s nobody hearin’ my rap stuff
Your jam stays gettin’ pirated, landlubber
My fanbase is entirely my grandmother
So they tend to say that this kid is crazy
Y’all eat rappers, I eat biscuits and gravy
Bet you knew that I’m bumbling and rude
I’m out of my element, sayin’ “Phone’s ringin’, dude”
Your stuff is hot, when you’re yellin’ the foes dig you
My flow’s frozen; I dwell in a cold igloo
You’re fly like a pelican, no emu
So deep that Adele couldn’t roll in you
I act like I’m harder than frickin’ limestone
Mispronounce vegetable soup and call it minestrone
And I can’t even legally drink
To save water bill money I just pee in the sink
Yo, I’m just stickin’ to the facts, what I spit is frickin’ whack
Not a menace on the track, in a second I react
In a minute I come back with a mega whack attack
But I got no talent, the Rebecca Black of rap
You’re often on while I’m off and on, always rockin’ wrong
Pounding on the ground like I’m Donkey Kong
But I’m knowing it well
When I’m flowing my voice sounds annoying as hell
You’re the Siddhartha Gautama in the art of rockin’ raw
I can’t kick a flow, I can’t even kick a soccer ball
But in a hurry, can rap like a natural disaster
Track’s spinning faster
But I’m about as real as the Hash-Slinging Slasher
Yo, check my single, it’s like nothin’
But if you think I suck, hit the dislike button
Twisted like a French horn
Play the rap game, I’ll just sit here and benchwarm
But he can’t find any inside his blind mind
In his free time and he declines to pen lines
‘Til Nate texted me like “Tonight’s the deadline!
You got your verse written?”
Uhh… strictly speakin’, no
Even though he sent me the beat like three weeks ago
Nate I got you, don’t wait until the weekend yo
I’ll write a quick rap about how frickin’ weak I flow
Cause I suck; I’m the worst of my kind
I sound like Lil Wayne reading nursery rhymes
In my words you can find I’m a thief
So I’m robbin’ thick verses but worse, and I blurred many lines
Other rappers get hype and I know they’re real
So I won’t diss you, you’re nice and I notice skill
So trill, you’re the type that can close a bill
While I bite rappers like Mike did to Holyfield
I just make some inferior rap stuff
It’s no wonder there’s nobody hearin’ my rap stuff
Your jam stays gettin’ pirated, landlubber
My fanbase is entirely my grandmother
So they tend to say that this kid is crazy
Y’all eat rappers, I eat biscuits and gravy
Bet you knew that I’m bumbling and rude
I’m out of my element, sayin’ “Phone’s ringin’, dude”
Your stuff is hot, when you’re yellin’ the foes dig you
My flow’s frozen; I dwell in a cold igloo
You’re fly like a pelican, no emu
So deep that Adele couldn’t roll in you
I act like I’m harder than frickin’ limestone
Mispronounce vegetable soup and call it minestrone
And I can’t even legally drink
To save water bill money I just pee in the sink
Yo, I’m just stickin’ to the facts, what I spit is frickin’ whack
Not a menace on the track, in a second I react
In a minute I come back with a mega whack attack
But I got no talent, the Rebecca Black of rap
You’re often on while I’m off and on, always rockin’ wrong
Pounding on the ground like I’m Donkey Kong
But I’m knowing it well
When I’m flowing my voice sounds annoying as hell
You’re the Siddhartha Gautama in the art of rockin’ raw
I can’t kick a flow, I can’t even kick a soccer ball
But in a hurry, can rap like a natural disaster
Track’s spinning faster
But I’m about as real as the Hash-Slinging Slasher
Yo, check my single, it’s like nothin’
But if you think I suck, hit the dislike button
Twisted like a French horn
Play the rap game, I’ll just sit here and benchwarm