Rhythm Assisted Poetry R.A.P. by Kixxie Siete Lyrics
[Verse 1: Kixxie Siete]
What you know about, packing these bowls at
3 in the morning when, I should be snoring
But I'm not
Instead, I'm soaring to the top
I'm giving it all I got this is all I ever had this
Pen and this pad this, pad that I'm living in
My mother, my dad, my brother, my sister
Now don't it paint the perfect picture
If it don't then I'm hopeless, giving a couple potent, hits of a lovely potion
I fear I'm slightly past the regular dosage
Floatin' but I ain't tripping
Turn the lights down low, right now
I'm feeling a tad blow
It's small fish big pond and I'm more like a tadpole
One day, I'ma grow and you'll see with your own eyes that I'm able to eat up anybody thinking that they fly
One of a kind style I'm a fan of reptiles, own a turtle, own a lizard
I'm a microphone wizard
Let the DJ spin it, he be cutting like scissors
And we both got to rock just to get a little paper
Tell him it is not no game bro
They all rapping and they all sound the same yo
And I might drive slow, but keep in mind
That I'm in my own lane I've done carved my own name
Trying to be my own man, trying to stack my own cake, I've done built my own brand
Trying to pave my own way
And I know that they going to hate
But this middle finger is up to whatever they gon' say
They doubt it when they stare at him
Apparently the swagger that he carryin' is like that of an African american
But I ain't even caring they saying I act black
They lack facts I don't quite understand that
How you act black my brother
Jerron taught me you can only act street you can't act a color
Wise words from a bad motherfucker
Feel me?
That's just the thoughts of an insomniac
The bottle of that Cognac get a little lower
Everytime I'm looking over let the marijuana burn
They claiming they missed the game, they praying for rich return
That shit will never be the same
Fuck what you talking about, I ain't proud of dropping out
Even though I talk about it openly
This shit is real homie
I ain't sugar coating it
They gave me the key
But its up to me to open it
Hopefully they see that the next on the throne is me
And with that said I'm out here to get that bread
Motherfucker
Tell them this ain't rap this is rhythm assisted poetry
Siete
What you know about, packing these bowls at
3 in the morning when, I should be snoring
But I'm not
Instead, I'm soaring to the top
I'm giving it all I got this is all I ever had this
Pen and this pad this, pad that I'm living in
My mother, my dad, my brother, my sister
Now don't it paint the perfect picture
If it don't then I'm hopeless, giving a couple potent, hits of a lovely potion
I fear I'm slightly past the regular dosage
Floatin' but I ain't tripping
Turn the lights down low, right now
I'm feeling a tad blow
It's small fish big pond and I'm more like a tadpole
One day, I'ma grow and you'll see with your own eyes that I'm able to eat up anybody thinking that they fly
One of a kind style I'm a fan of reptiles, own a turtle, own a lizard
I'm a microphone wizard
Let the DJ spin it, he be cutting like scissors
And we both got to rock just to get a little paper
Tell him it is not no game bro
They all rapping and they all sound the same yo
And I might drive slow, but keep in mind
That I'm in my own lane I've done carved my own name
Trying to be my own man, trying to stack my own cake, I've done built my own brand
Trying to pave my own way
And I know that they going to hate
But this middle finger is up to whatever they gon' say
They doubt it when they stare at him
Apparently the swagger that he carryin' is like that of an African american
But I ain't even caring they saying I act black
They lack facts I don't quite understand that
How you act black my brother
Jerron taught me you can only act street you can't act a color
Wise words from a bad motherfucker
Feel me?
That's just the thoughts of an insomniac
The bottle of that Cognac get a little lower
Everytime I'm looking over let the marijuana burn
They claiming they missed the game, they praying for rich return
That shit will never be the same
Fuck what you talking about, I ain't proud of dropping out
Even though I talk about it openly
This shit is real homie
I ain't sugar coating it
They gave me the key
But its up to me to open it
Hopefully they see that the next on the throne is me
And with that said I'm out here to get that bread
Motherfucker
Tell them this ain't rap this is rhythm assisted poetry
Siete