Fourth Rope

Macho on Coke

Lotto

Big Spitter

Everytime I step up to the mic I got the fresh drip
new kicks, break necks, leave you in a head trip
Everytime I try to play the game a different way
they always saying sumn 'bout how I'ma fail
I'ma do it anyway, cause I'm LewRayy,
back of the race is where I came on her face, 
I mean I finished, now I'm done with the race
Every time I rise up, they try to downgrade
but I'm built for the pressure, turn doubt into sound waves
Climbin’ out the background, louder than crowd’s rage
Turned a small spark into somethin’ that’ll out-blaze
Came from the back, now I’m front-seat couch-slack, 
laid out, victory lapping, comfy after bounce-back
opposite town, down south, sound doused in a foul mouth
dial tone drone, blown dome in the chow house
doubt clouds crowd 'round, Reroute a round while I wild out
Style swings a wide bout, write schemes till they bow out
No more shout outs.
they never pick 'em up when I put 'em down, sound drowned out
say a name, they mishear it like "who?" with a loud frown
why throw the crown out just to have 'em clown how I pronounce shout?
mouth movin', it's useless, whos this? man, I'm like, "why do I even do this?
I might as well quit.
’cept every time I try to dip, script grips like vice hit
ink drips, mic twitch, B) I write where the rhymes sit
sat-at-my-desk, Under-My-Bed 
looping-the-beats till they play-in-my-head
muttering bars like I'm summoning dead
sink-in-the-zone like I'm locked-in-the-shed
That's the end of the triplets
yeah you know, my bars not the simplest
spit my shit hard, similar to vantriliquist
voice in the void, throwin’ noise, come and witness this
wicked kid, spill his shit, and flip his lid, 
(grab his dick and twist it)
I'm so twisted,
scribble sigils in the margins like a crptic glyph
like a baby smokin’ cigs, gettin’ lit off a licorice spliff,
blowin’ brains out the bong, long strings of viscous drip,
sick lil gremlin with a grin, infantile wickedness,
diaper full of biohazard slimb, what a stench he gives,
chewin’ on a plug of moldy crud, leave a sludge trail where the mischief lives,
hiccup puke bubbles, double-trouble on your wishlist, kid
Garbage-Pail filth, a tilted stilt, spilled milk on a Christmas list.
wtf man who is this kid?

Every Time

Cats in the bag? fuck that, I want cash.
so I take em out, put em in my hat
fur fuckin' up the patturn, so I put 'em back.
That's a Lesson learned.
I Stumble to the curb, tryna bargain with a cab,
mumbled out a number, but the meter did the math,
digging through my pockets for a reason not to crash
out of the way kicking pavement
getting back down with the girls from the rave
I've been locked in my brain,
Dear lord, can't behave
on my own anymore
need a girl to keep me straight
Realistically, I need strength 
to stand tall on my own 
Through a cold winter stretch
Struck a chord, hit a vein, and a power surge
now I’m buzzin’ off static, think I need a nurse
my eyeballs plucking all the buttons off her shirt
tried to shake it off but the buzzing got worse
Nurse walks in: “Relax, you’re not even hurt.”
I’m twitchin’, “girl you crazy, this feels like a curse!"
I'm fine on a bike, I could wheelie in a hellcat
90 on a freeway, hundred down a back path
swerving off the road, like I almost hit a black cat
swallowed by a ditch who was acting like sandtrap

mf sandtraps
--

Wolfgang the only one to pull up on a LewRayy track
other Hometown boys never hit me back
that's cool, every bar they drop falls flat
I level up alone while they stuck in the past with the pack.
fight myself, same combo, repeat, like I'm running a drill,
Praying one swing finally hit, flip script, for real
Chasin' who I could be, push N pull, my ego Ideal,
I appear to appeal, it's apparent that I feel no fear

Just one year, and I'm already veteren
Baby come here, you know I'm a better man
leveled up quick, now I’m movin’ like I never ran
fuck another Hook, never setting foot in Neverland
Captured the Captain and I held him Captive, 
Caged in my Castle, a hastle, the fatass
kept rantin’ and begging for truce I'm laughing sarcastic, ain't cuttin' him loose,
Locking king blot in the brig in the back of caboose
ain't no biggie, I'm back off my neuse, suicidal thoughts always could miss me
I'm Here for the legency
not for the spending spree
twisting the sounds of my words
till the ending G

I get the track all set
then I hit another dab
and I rap no sweat

Big Spitter

LEWRAYY

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