Lyrics Pistol Smoke - ROC

You know you done messed up right?
I see myself in the pistol smoke

Lil' trick, stop feelin' like we owin' you somethin'
Thinkin' you an innovator, please, you know that you frontin'
Talkin' trash on social media, can't handle the facts
Then you made the decision to throw subliminals on wax
That was stupid, now I gotta wipe the floor with ya
Kick you out the industry, don't let the door hit ya
Comin' at me sideways with them nursery rhymes
You cursed swine, I'll make sure that's how you further defined
My bars they pack enough punch to warp a curve in your spine
Superb with the lines, you envy us, observin' the shine
Keep on wavin' yo' crown in my face and I might grab it
Got you full of salt like a white family's spice cabinet
Call yourself a king when you ain't nothin' but a jester
Fools I sever, killin' yo' career would be my pleasure
You've been spittin' since '09, always on about that net pay
That means that you've been average for almost a decade
Leave yo' face in a red shade, your whole persona's pitiful
Named your crew after a shoe, oh how original
Nike Clan Nation is subject to damnation
Kill The Mic, we takin' over, never keep the fans waitin'
You bland, fakin', thinkin' you a god on the mic
But you don't want it, I'm Michael Vick with a dog in a fight
And I'm optin' to smite, any emcee who test this
I'm reckless, might run up on you and snatch yo' necklace
I'm Curry with the shot, leave you burnin' like some pot
And it's concernin' if you ain't discernin' who is hot
Said this thing Drake and Meek, it's more like Em and Benzino
Gamblin' wit' cho life, but we Vegas, you just Reno
Made us wait a month for a less than dope response track
Beyond wack, can't see that? Get a refill on yo' contacts
Bustin' outta the lid of your closed casket
Murk your style, send it off to the morgue and toe tag it
And yo' hypocrisy made me queasy
Said we sound alike, but you sound exactly like G-Eazy
Yet somehow more generic, you put me in hysterics
Saw us gettin' props from heads and you just couldn't bare it
Gassed up like the planet Saturn, won't stop till your head is splattered
Switchin' the beat between the verses won't make you a better rapper
Leave you dead and after, dance on yo' grave
Put that paddle to your saddle, you gon' damn sure behave
Yeah, I ain't the type that's gon' be knockin' yo' grind
But I've been steady catchin' wreck, so why you jockin' on mine?
'Cuz I'm a product of the greats, you just a product of the paper
Yo' skills waver, only spit to cop a wager
Since I first picked up the mic, I've been light years ahead of you
Use yo' pad of worthless rhymes to wipe your eyes for a better view
I should've been deaded you, but K wanted first
So I let him kill and now I'm here to load up the hearse
You gon' be quotin' my verse, probably rehearsin' my rhymes
But you ain't holding a torch, yeah my words is divine
Got the magic in my name like I'm Bishop Don Juan
You sang the wrong song, make you stain yo' long Johns
Ain't no discussion, you bitter like Robitussin (what?)
The flows I'm bustin' is ample for your destruction (what?)
Good thing you got a day job and all that work done paid off
'Cuz any credibility yo' name once had's been laid off
Don't bother to respond, you know it won't be hard
I'll leave you flatter than a drunk girl at a karaoke bar
All your songs sound alike, you need to broaden yo' topics
I've been the top pick 'cuz my pen game is toxic
Listen close as the clock ticks, yo' time is up
Got this game wrapped in my fingers, better mind the clutch
Mix the classic with the classy like designer Chucks
So homie stay up in yo' lane, you can't ride with us

Ayo, maybe next time try steppin' yo' bars a little bit
Before you come at me sideways with a beef bruh
I've been honin' my craft since I was 12 years old man
Just 'cuz I be on my lil' socially conscious tip
Don't mean I ain't gon' handle my business