Disarray

Who You Were

Mirror Freestyle

Utopia

I’m The Shit (written by: JON’a’TEN)

Lyrics:

I’m shittin’ on these niggas, I do it on purpose, (Huh?)
like this is my purpose, my calling, my service.(Jon’a’Ten) (Stright Up) 

(verse)
 
Tell me where the toilet is; I wanna watch the masterpiece (BIG JON)
while Rembrandt with the remnants paint the night with my spite.
Your niggas float face-down, gallery of turds, (woo)
I’m curator of chaos, every flush is my words. (Ten Out Of Ten) Type Shit.
Birth brown Picassos, frame ’em in porcelain,
sign the rim with initials while the evidence soakin’ in.
The toilet whispered soft, “Bring the heat, let ’em R.I.P.” (glitch-glitch)
Now the water’s risin’, bubbles poppin’ like applause for me.
Every swirl’s a standing ovation for the shit that broke the laws,
bow to the bowl, king; your reign just got hosed.
These hoes swear I ain’t shit, but they gassed as I walk past clean,
prayin’ I take a squirt while I pose, marble statue of mean.
Flesh bend when the redwoods drop, logs crash, room stop,
I’m brown Moses partin’ cheeks that can’t take the shock.
Call me worthless? Watch your value depreciate,
one coil of this rope and your whole stock evaporate.
Pyramids in the porcelain, pharaoh of the flush,
they inhale the legacy, then gag on the rush.

Hook the block, lock the chain,
change the channel, flick the flame.
Link licks ink, let it drip,
move on paper, don’t let it spin.
Spin too fast and you die, die—
ghost in the bowl, high-five the sky.
But I stay greased, pen never dry,
drop a log, then wave bye-bye.
Hook—block—chain—change—
link—lick—ink—rearrange.
Spin—spin—don’t die—die…

I just birthed a verse that’ll never dry.
The sewer now a cathedral, the stink is incense,
every bar a stained-glass window of pure offense.
We crowned ourselves kings on a porcelain throne,
and the whole block still holdin’ they nose… but quotin’ every poem.
Mic drop. Plop. Flush.
Legend forever floats.
I swear you bitches are full of shit.

(hook)

Hook the block, lock the chain,
change the channel, flick the flame.
Link licks ink, let it drip,
move on paper, don’t let it spin.
Spin too fast and you die, die—
ghost in the bowl, high-five the sky.
But I stay greased, pen never dry,
drop a log, then wave bye-bye.
Hook—block—chain—change—
link—lick—ink—rearrange.
Spin—spin—don’t die—die…

I’ve my names in the porcelain hall of fame, etched in steam and infamy!
That wasn’t a cypher, that was a coronation with the seat up.
Rap mastery? Nah… just invented a whole new genre:
Porcelain Bars & Sewage Symphonies.
Crown still warm, water still swirlin’. I am king of this shit
History books gon’ need a courtesy flush after this one. (Bullish)

Disarray

CalenRaps