Blue Gene's

(album: Blue Gene's - 2023)

This is KalaniOnDaBeat

My neck redder 'cause the system tried to choke me out
They must not of heard I'm the warrior of the rural south
Grew up putting Coke cans in the tire of my bike
So I could pretend I was a cool motorcycle rider
I got Barbie on my Harley now, your boy ain't tapping out
I'ma keep it swinging 'til I'm old, grey, and can barely yell
Flow so known you see the Nile when I spit and tell
Encrypted with logistical, you fire a shot, I heard the sound
I'ma killer but don't treat me like a clown
The "It" factor gonna stab any rapper back down to the ground
Who the fuck want it with big bad skillbilly?
I'm hungry as fuck now and I ain't a meal ticket
I'm mil getting the real vision is still listed
As John Lennon, Michael Jackson, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix (Ha, ha)
When I die my last name will be majestic
Wake up eat certified gold records for every breakfast
Your favorite rapper running bots on his comment section
And hashtagging my name to change chart positioning
Don't need a pistol with lead to get you penciled in
Insulting me is inflammation without the insulin
These rappers can get beat down by smashing violins
Put an 808 on that bitch and call it hitting licks
Give me five seconds to write a riff, pen to pen
You'll be riding the side of a drainage ditch before we hit
I see Firestones flopping, motors start knocking
My Pirelli still sticky and the car wrap popping
And a bad bitch with me, red head cherry blossom
Texas Roadhouse shorts, cut the denim down to nothing
This ain't stunting, this what cometh of a smooth country bumpkin
We don't yee-haw 'round here and I ain't TikToking nothing
Only sun up sunset if you need me for something
I'll be in the front yard, pupils huge and I'm buzzing motherfucker
Connect the game like WiFi
Not scared of threats on IG live or petty drive by's
And I ain't in the city, this the thicket, lots of wood lines
You smoking sycamore trees I'm smoking trees at the same time
Front porch sitting kicked back with some red eyes
Keyless entry, I mean on my cars and sight wise
Generally the General Lee ain't even beating my time
CMT is a STD, I'm the real deal in my prime
Blue jeans and my bare feet hip hopping over barbed wire
No Sam Hunt, never getting caught in the back of a cop car
I'm the last of the rock stars, accent thick covered in sauce
Jones for the beat, call Kalani to go get this Aux cord for my Ford
No tank of gas and I'm never bored, writers block is a myth of course
Easy and simple to riddle a little and double dribble my balls on the court
Better miss me like mission abort, I am a drug that you shouldn't snort
'Cause you'll end up dead as fuck in the booth in your studio floor
Thinking up some words
Church

Motherfucker, fucker
Ayy
Hillbilly
Motherfucker
Woo, woo, woo