Track 1067/1Hip Hop Apocalypse

These lyrics were transcribed with the help of AI tools, so please keep in mind that there could be some inaccuracies.

Fully charged, yeah Listen, said I'm fully charged Freestyle and you don't know it Throw it, explode it From the top of the dome I blow it Like it's wind sailing through the leaves in the trees I camouflage, fly with the bees, they can see Me in the sky in the form of a cloud Spit to the crowd, get loud, wow My whole style since a child, been milli' I'll slap a nigga to the dome, just silly What, you want pop? Well he pop, Jilly What, ha, freestyle, the bottom of the gun And it's so dramatic like the oceans crashing in the form of waves I'm a war to the grave and when I hop my style You get transformed from the name to a civilized man With the mic in the hand instead of a gat You wanna strap something else, follow me back Listen, yo, run it back, yo, run it back, yo I run this race like an athlete, run this pace MC's wanna change it, grace the mic at least This is hip-hop apocalypse, your whole style is preposterous How you gonna stop me? This is nonsense, this I roll with hectic and some monster-ish And it's like the microphone I'm kissin', huh Use my intuition from the dome, just chin, huh, uh Leave your whole mind itchin', scratchin' your scalp Cold like the Al when the world froze Niggas don't know the mouth that I pose with, pose with, pose with So cold, we're since the school days, huh Who choose who's to blaze when I blaze? Press play, press stop, pause, rewind, blow with the mind, huh Penetrate your whole spine, make you wind your waist And I'm finally to place my whole style This is hip-hop apocalypse, your whole style is preposterous How you gonna stop me? This is nonsense, this I roll with hectic and some monster-ish Dudes that be on the rap scene, huh, uh From the Paco to Hackney, whatever you call it Slam your man, I walk with a little twang in my hand With a bop and my sword and my glistenin' from the back When I style out a rap This is hip-hop apocalypse, your whole style is preposterous When I flip flows acrobatically like some gin-ass Get panicky and my whole style is just anarchy From the court of the keys, my reward is the police Whatever the keys say, I do say, please say Wanna talk 'bout the he say, she say I'm on iDouble, to give them trouble I bubble with the crowd 'Til the walls start to rumble and my whole style throwin' it, huh This is hip-hop apocalypse (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) This is hip-hop apocalypse (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse, apocalypse) (Apocalypse) Make my people rejoice, it's O.I.C.U.H 'Til I'm pushin' a Roy's roast, huh Get roast, be the host with the most Your whole face is toast in the force of my heat And you're forced to retreat Get defeat when the force of defeat A thousand mans marchin' from the force of my heat From the chest, yes, rest to impress And I'm from the double S, blessed to your Hess When I don't know, rest with the Fess And I'm thirty G, Lil' Marsman and And my, and my nigga Jayvon in the Even Cardix, even though he gone with the Four stars that nobody talks about, huh It's like the truth food that hides youth And you're all watchin' and listenin', yo