Verse 1:
Listen I'm not a young Simba, but I'm a young criminal
Rippin through every single visual individual
There's no makeshift they made for us, no one's replacing us
While we're spitting death at the ones covered in angel dust
We're sane as what? Calamity causing animals,
savages, anacondas with our mind's so expandable
Have the masses at a panic state
Their favorite artists at a low while everything they listen to is dilapidated
You're outwitted, outskilled, and outdated.
It's outrageous. We ignite the flame til the sound's blazing
We're ground shaking. We pound faces in two.
Our hearts are racing with rage and we're tearing faces if you
Don't believe that we won't achieve this,
we'll just rip harder as the underdog's coming underneath you.
We hope you withdraw. We hope you decline
because we're taking over your mind, body, soul, and your prime.

Chorus (2x):
We kill with vigilance, well skilled murderers.
No point in hiding the fact our crimes are further
than your average, passive, tragic little incidents.
Words who get the ones who do not interpret them trembling.

Verse 2:
I get more wins than supah hot. Leave you mute if you are not
at your computer commenting, saying, “He’s in illuminati.”
Y’all are so humorous. Ignorance entertains me.
That’s why I listen to Waka Flocka and Gucci Mane, see.
I’m just playing. Most of you all are just plain,
so I make (title) tidal waves, legacies. so what’s names?
I take the thought off the train and turn it to jetpacks.
Your train derailed a while ago. You’re on some jet lag.
Kick you in the back of your head and knock some common knowledge
in you, or better yet, throw you inside of a mosh pit
where they are armed with knives, throw a dagger at your stomach after the concert
We’ll finally see how karma flies.
Your awful lies harmonize with harms and cries
and harm I drive into your system. You need a harder drive.
The system will never control me or own me,
and Imma rap it to you, homie cause you can’t spit it over me oldie

Chorus (repeat)