Ren - Illest Of Our Time Lyrics

One, two, threeSpitting bullets on the beatI'm a sick little puppyWho gets lucky when he speaksBlessed with a silver tongueChest with an iron lungExtra terrestrial, tentacles, alienPsychopathic tendenciesA pathologic entityIf everything is set in stoneThen this is how it's meant to beElementary, dear Watson, you might findYourself inside the mind of the illest of our timeLet's get it popping, hot rockingI'm Freddy Kruеger, I'm choppingI turn it up to elevеn, the Demogorgon of oppin'The strangest thing, I'm the boss whenThe danger lingers, I'm plottingSweet like a spoon full of sugarBecause I'm Mary like PoppinsThe double barrel is cockingA shotgun shell to the noggin'I'm coughing catchy bronchitisYou're in your funeral coffinNo blocking, stoping me, not whenI pick the world up, I'm squattingAnd when I take from the richI'm in your hood and I'm RobbinFour, five, six, spit a crucifixSix-six-six flow, crucify a catholicMaverick, anti-hero, villain not protagonistWords are kind of muffled when you're sucking on my massiveWho's the fucking illest, who's the realestWho's the baddest kid?Call the police on this beat before I damage itA kiddie called Screech on the streets, I'm a masochistSo far from reach, I'm the type to kill a pacifistCatalyst for chemical combustion, I'm the analystOf metaphors and similes and synonyms, an alchemistEvangelist - spread the words I speak like they're cancerousPragmatist - think before I speak then I answer itPull up, pull up, pull up to the placeWhen I pull it, bang, a bullet sang, it shot right into spaceMusic for the hooligans, let loose on the estateCall the police and the riot vans, the people want to play, hey!Freedom now, has lost all meaning, howCan we all be free in a hierarchic breeding ground?The poor get poorer whileThe rich get rich in styleI'll be a heretic, kill a king, take his crownTop of the throne, top of the kingdom I ownTop of the streets that I roamTop of the dome, spitting for BritainI show 'em bars like a cellular phoneHyping like Tyson, an icon, go twice inLeft, right in, I'm striking like I'm biting like a pythonReady? I'm heavy, I'm Mercury, I am FreddySo eat my words, fill your bellyLike alphabet spaghettiI am a rap-starDon't believe me, the facts areI spit fast like I'm NascarDon't believe me?Then fuck yaAh shitI don't feel so wellI don't feel so wellI don't feel so wellCall a medic for myselfI don't feel so hot, my brotherAching, shaking, stop then stutterThings gone wrongHit by King King KongA Swan-ton bomb like Hardy BrothersI don't feel so fresh, my broThings get slurry, speaking slowHead in Hong Kong, wonton soupIs what I have for brains, I knowThat I want to spread these tattered wings, hold them highBanished from the heavens but I'm knocking on the skyLiving with depression is a blessing in disguiseNever second guessing, intuition getting wiseWant to sink into the pupil of my eyeTravel to the corner of my cornea and mindLook for all the answers that I never seem to findTill then, I guess I'm still the illest of our time