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lyrics
[HOOK]
Focus focus,
four eyes is how I wrote this.
Notice notice
how ambition is how to cope with
wishing wishing you can see success
these specs can't be fucked with, see?
Now you can't fuck with me.
I got dream so big they could fall from heaven,
smack me down to hell "Waddup Kellan,"
whispered Lucifer in my ear,
"You ever think you'd end up down here?"
Nightmares. My hair slick with sweat,
that mirror said "you ain't no threat
to the game, your grave will read
RIP: Some MC we'll forget."
Smashed the glass, and fucked the odds.
Got them pregnant but I birthed a god.
He walks this Earth, his name is Ra,
and all the pyramids are all his songs.
Talking 'bout fearing the future, be a loser,
fuck that Psychic she's a boozer.
She's so drunk on doubt,
telling people they already have a route.
So I didn't pay her a piece of my mind,
two cents ain't worth my time,
put it towards my grind, save up.
Invest in rhymes so one day you'll pay up.
But I ain't stunting for the money,
maybe just for the honeys,
maybe someday playboy bunnies,
maybe to recognized -- I mean idolized for my cunning,
for my Semper Fi strung out lines ya'll are coveting.
My show's are like my sex, so I know you're coming.
To show I don't do bunting, I'm at bat then I'm home running.
Running train on the tracks, and I ain't stopping.
I'm on top and ya'll are nothing.
[HOOK]
Vic Firth in the hand since birthed to the land,
drum roll please, kick drum, then flam.
Full of drum fills, full of myself,
famished still, no size to my belt.
Picked up the pickups, the pick and the axe.
Mined for the skills that Cuomo has.
Slo-mo to fast, I passed the class
cuz I learned first hand with my foot on the gas.
Going at a max when I stopped dead in my tracks
when I rammed to the fact of the matter
that when I sing every pitch is scattered.
Oh well, just another dream shattered.
"Still got lyrics," the adolescent though,
"And people should hear it from um..hip-hop."
Good god.
Pensive Apocalypse was brought to the table
and "Alphabetacal" labeled the able, unstable K-Rod,
I mean K-Rad.
Hey mom! Hey dad! My brain's gone bad.
Gone sad, gone mad, gone bombed,
Baghdad? Fuck that.
Despite when I woo with banter, I'm stag,
despite these huge antlers.
Gone back to the lab with test tubes in hands.
Fuck with reactions when I spit it acidic,
you want a solution but I ain't gonna solvent.
Brain chemistry whack, so I'm gonna need to solve it.
But first, I'mma hit it big rapping hella quick,
faster than the stig, blowing up the gigs
and then I'll say "I called it."
[HOOK] x2
You are a no one, don't fuck with me, don't fuck with me.
You are a no one, don't fuck with me, don't fuck with me.
Ya.
I can't stop now.
Already begun.
Already been having fun so.
Burn the witch, rats and kings.
Bonfires. Gasoline.
Speakers that lobotomize.
Stare into these nerd eyes.
An energy-driven dynamic rap artist, K-Rad is a Seattle native who focuses on storytelling, clever lyrics and catchy hooks over lush beats that combine old-school hip-hop fundamentals with newer electronic sounds.
Executive produced by his son Hit-Boy and featuring Benny the Butcher, The Alchemist & more, the new LP from Big Hit is a scorcher. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 30, 2023