GOING PRIMAL II
Verse 1] I march in with a war-drum heartbeat—thunder in my chest, Bars land like airstrikes—every rhyme a request for death. I spit ordinance, not lyrics—detonate on command, Your catalogue’s dust—mine hits and the bedrock buckles on land. Forged in recoil, my cadence kicks harder than rifles, Your pen twitches scared—mine scripts plagues that make prophets shuffle. I warp the air around me—bend timelines into chokeholds, You swing with toy punches—I bring judgment in war-codes. My voice armored in shrapnel—breathing battleground abrasion, My lungs expel siege fire—my pulse triggers invasions. I don’t chase fame—fame limps toward me on broken chains, Feeding hurricanes carved straight out of my veins. --- [Hook] When he spits, the earth splits—no peace in his breath, Every word a warhead—no love, only death. God Mode awakened—your pride gets torn down, Last thing you’ll ever hear is the quake in my sound. --- [Verse 2] I beat on the beat like riot shields crushing a jaw, Lines crack bone—syntax forged in the furnace of war. Every syllable serrated—vowels slice like serrated shrapnel, I write suffering in rhythm—your whole squad collapses fragile. Your crew glass-bodied—my presence fractures the room, When I step in, light dims—your future sealed like a tomb. My lines stalk prey—patrolling rhythm with hunger, Every bar a panic attack—your chest tightens under thunder. I’m the rupture you dread—the collapse that grips your spine, Bars follow you in echoes—your sleep’s no longer mine. Ghost in the speakers—your nightmares conduct me, I don’t rap—I commit controlled damage publicly. --- [Verse 3] I’m hell’s percussion—steel boots stomping through smoke, Punchlines slit throats—every stanza designed to provoke. You call it beef—I call it a sanctioned extinction, I don’t drop diss tracks—I drop era-level convictions. My wrath artisanal—hammered in lava with patience, My pen’s a guillotine blade—clean cuts, no hesitation. I hunt through opponents—dismantling every contender, You talk slick—get your teeth redesigned by impact pressure. Every war is a stanza—bunker-buster thunder in each letter. I spit in seismic pulses—fault lines open beneath you, Your legacy brittle—mine molten enough to sear through. I write like the end times—ink dripping omens, You rap like side quests—I move chosen. --- [Verse 4 – Pagan Break & Crescendo] I launch lines like stealth jets—impact arrives before sound, Precision so deadly your heartbeat forgets to rebound. One of one—no carbon copies breathing near me, A cyclone with a notebook—your throne was merely theory. I carve through your psyche like a blade through a hymn, Expose the cracks in your aura—leave confidence thin. I don’t spit to impress—I spit to fold worlds inward, Collapse dimensions on beat drops—the pressure delivered. Impact uncompromised—raw chaos when I’m flagrant, Snappin’ like a pagan—ritual rage carved ancient. Raised in the war drum—baptized in the tempest, Your top tier? I bend it. Your idol? I end it. No peer, no parallel—I rise where your courage malfunctions, Your legacy collapses—mine forged in tungsten eruptions. I close out wars you never had the spine to enter— Name etched permanent: I’m the apex of Rap Fame’s center. --- [Hook – Final] When he spits, the earth splits—no peace in his breath, Every word a warhead—no love, only death. God Mode awakened—your pride gets torn down, Last thing you’ll ever hear is the quake in my sound.
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Verse 1] I march in with a war-drum heartbeat—thunder in my chest, Bars land like airstrikes—every rhyme a request for death. I spit ordinance, not lyrics—detonate on command, Your catalogue’s dust—mine hits and the bedrock buckles on land. Forged in recoil, my cadence kicks harder than rifles, Your pen twitches scared—mine scripts plagues that make prophets shuffle. I warp the air around me—bend timelines into chokeholds, You swing with toy punches—I bring judgment in war-codes. My voice armored in shrapnel—breathing battleground abrasion, My lungs expel siege fire—my pulse triggers invasions. I don’t chase fame—fame limps toward me on broken chains, Feeding hurricanes carved straight out of my veins. --- [Hook] When he spits, the earth splits—no peace in his breath, Every word a warhead—no love, only death. God Mode awakened—your pride gets torn down, Last thing you’ll ever hear is the quake in my sound. --- [Verse 2] I beat on the beat like riot shields crushing a jaw, Lines crack bone—syntax forged in the furnace of war. Every syllable serrated—vowels slice like serrated shrapnel, I write suffering in rhythm—your whole squad collapses fragile. Your crew glass-bodied—my presence fractures the room, When I step in, light dims—your future sealed like a tomb. My lines stalk prey—patrolling rhythm with hunger, Every bar a panic attack—your chest tightens under thunder. I’m the rupture you dread—the collapse that grips your spine, Bars follow you in echoes—your sleep’s no longer mine. Ghost in the speakers—your nightmares conduct me, I don’t rap—I commit controlled damage publicly. --- [Verse 3] I’m hell’s percussion—steel boots stomping through smoke, Punchlines slit throats—every stanza designed to provoke. You call it beef—I call it a sanctioned extinction, I don’t drop diss tracks—I drop era-level convictions. My wrath artisanal—hammered in lava with patience, My pen’s a guillotine blade—clean cuts, no hesitation. I hunt through opponents—dismantling every contender, You talk slick—get your teeth redesigned by impact pressure. Every war is a stanza—bunker-buster thunder in each letter. I spit in seismic pulses—fault lines open beneath you, Your legacy brittle—mine molten enough to sear through. I write like the end times—ink dripping omens, You rap like side quests—I move chosen. --- [Verse 4 – Pagan Break & Crescendo] I launch lines like stealth jets—impact arrives before sound, Precision so deadly your heartbeat forgets to rebound. One of one—no carbon copies breathing near me, A cyclone with a notebook—your throne was merely theory. I carve through your psyche like a blade through a hymn, Expose the cracks in your aura—leave confidence thin. I don’t spit to impress—I spit to fold worlds inward, Collapse dimensions on beat drops—the pressure delivered. Impact uncompromised—raw chaos when I’m flagrant, Snappin’ like a pagan—ritual rage carved ancient. Raised in the war drum—baptized in the tempest, Your top tier? I bend it. Your idol? I end it. No peer, no parallel—I rise where your courage malfunctions, Your legacy collapses—mine forged in tungsten eruptions. I close out wars you never had the spine to enter— Name etched permanent: I’m the apex of Rap Fame’s center. --- [Hook – Final] When he spits, the earth splits—no peace in his breath, Every word a warhead—no love, only death. God Mode awakened—your pride gets torn down, Last thing you’ll ever hear is the quake in my sound.
Respect 🤜🤛