[Verse 1: Departure]
Cock pit check, test your red buttons for clarity
Not to Duke Nukem, not to wage war but to see the age of my pores
Pouring pus precisely out of place
And if I wanted to see your face I would go check it on MySpace
I'm mixing my vocals like an open mic event
To diss cocksucking cosplaying communists, this is the wisdom I present
Despite the fact that the future is a gift
And the past is some foolishness to gruel you into a grift
Shifting snakes like to claim change is not a constant
But ask Illogic, he will tell you the exact opposite
Constantly crying on consonants dirting dancily on dogshit
And I make a fucking profit off of it
(No, I am not rapping for money)
But I'm sure writing like a columnist
Or a novelist, see that poetry keeps me occupant
And knowledge is power, so this rapping shit makes me dominant
I see a lot of yall incompetent rappers be acting faggy as fuck
Then turn around and claim yourself as gynecologists
But what you really need is a psychologist pretending to be a paraplegic
Then maybe you'll see the problem with all of it
(I got two bad bitches, that's my fucking problem)
Staring solemnly at your sudoku column
But leave it to me, the rogue who's gonna fucking solve em
[Verse 2: Altair Kareem]
Heh, solvin' what? Picked up when you called me bruh
I thought you was a monster bro, you told me you was onto somethin'
Hold up, lemme drop a couple math equations on you chumps
You know you gotta shuffle numbers over like a card or something'
Check it like it's 21, really, what'd you give me, son?
20 dollar mission to go kill shit, I'mma get it done
30 more, I'll a pen a ghost for pretty much bout anyone
And you can say it ain't me to get your street pity up
The transgender manbender, stand there and 'member
How I get them damn rhythms given when demanded them
It's Ally T Apache, I tomohawk you crackers if you really think you match me
Roll with baddies in the back seat
I'm a cold ass Carolina nigga with a motto
Never hold back bitch, I really breathe raw flows
PTAF, I'm a real ass boss hoe
Cleveland seen me take so many hits they call me Carlos
As I lead and you follow, I'mma slap a rapper back in line
Marching to tomorrow with a "we ready for battle" sign
Check the hands on the fucking clock, bitch it's ally time
Smoke 'til I can't see straight, now tell my joint happy pride
[Outro: Altair Kareem]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, smoke 'til I can't see straight, now tell my joint happy pride
Yeah, yeah, yeah, huh
Go, go, go when I spit it, yo
And I really stay cold with the rhythms
You gon' wanna go go go go go when I spit it 'round the way 'cause a hoe so cold with the rhythms, waddup?
Cock pit check, test your red buttons for clarity
Not to Duke Nukem, not to wage war but to see the age of my pores
Pouring pus precisely out of place
And if I wanted to see your face I would go check it on MySpace
I'm mixing my vocals like an open mic event
To diss cocksucking cosplaying communists, this is the wisdom I present
Despite the fact that the future is a gift
And the past is some foolishness to gruel you into a grift
Shifting snakes like to claim change is not a constant
But ask Illogic, he will tell you the exact opposite
Constantly crying on consonants dirting dancily on dogshit
And I make a fucking profit off of it
(No, I am not rapping for money)
But I'm sure writing like a columnist
Or a novelist, see that poetry keeps me occupant
And knowledge is power, so this rapping shit makes me dominant
I see a lot of yall incompetent rappers be acting faggy as fuck
Then turn around and claim yourself as gynecologists
But what you really need is a psychologist pretending to be a paraplegic
Then maybe you'll see the problem with all of it
(I got two bad bitches, that's my fucking problem)
Staring solemnly at your sudoku column
But leave it to me, the rogue who's gonna fucking solve em
[Verse 2: Altair Kareem]
Heh, solvin' what? Picked up when you called me bruh
I thought you was a monster bro, you told me you was onto somethin'
Hold up, lemme drop a couple math equations on you chumps
You know you gotta shuffle numbers over like a card or something'
Check it like it's 21, really, what'd you give me, son?
20 dollar mission to go kill shit, I'mma get it done
30 more, I'll a pen a ghost for pretty much bout anyone
And you can say it ain't me to get your street pity up
The transgender manbender, stand there and 'member
How I get them damn rhythms given when demanded them
It's Ally T Apache, I tomohawk you crackers if you really think you match me
Roll with baddies in the back seat
I'm a cold ass Carolina nigga with a motto
Never hold back bitch, I really breathe raw flows
PTAF, I'm a real ass boss hoe
Cleveland seen me take so many hits they call me Carlos
As I lead and you follow, I'mma slap a rapper back in line
Marching to tomorrow with a "we ready for battle" sign
Check the hands on the fucking clock, bitch it's ally time
Smoke 'til I can't see straight, now tell my joint happy pride
[Outro: Altair Kareem]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, smoke 'til I can't see straight, now tell my joint happy pride
Yeah, yeah, yeah, huh
Go, go, go when I spit it, yo
And I really stay cold with the rhythms
You gon' wanna go go go go go when I spit it 'round the way 'cause a hoe so cold with the rhythms, waddup?
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