Attention Deficit Disorder - Apathy

I don’t waste energy on my enemies

Much worse when a motherfucker dead to me

Trynna bite it would take you a century

'Cause essentially…

I’m detonating a bomb on the original formula I created

Rappers that go after my rap are evaporated

Captain of the ship and he should be decapitated

Captured and trapped in a cabin and castrated

I never took a strangers' candy and I never made a hater family

And I never gave away the fancy top secret plan we

Get money without never ever needin' a Plan B

Ask Celph this is all organic

Keep calm, no need for panic

Just playing you should all be frantic

Trynna find a spaceship just to flee the planet

Pop shots at the ship as it takes of

Ricochets through the shields, shoot your face off

Motherfucker never stop the beat, or interrupt my rap, or try to turn my tape

off

Y’all trynna sound smart when you sound more shallow than water inside of a tub

Ap’s shit so deep that the pressure when you dive implodes every side of a sub

We starve

Look at one another short of breath

Walking proudly in our winter coats

Wearing smells from lavatories

Facing a dying nation

(Of m…)

I don’t ever pay attention, never stay on topic

I got ADD bitch, if it ain’t about profit

I don’t ever pay attention, never stay on topic

I got ADD bitch, if it ain’t about profit

Not Mohammed, the kind that go in your pocket

And no one can stop it, I’m a Soviet rocket

A giant on the mic, so it’s microscopic

There’s clues in the rap, so the cops’ll cop it

Trynna solve the murder of the beat when I chop it

Put it in a woodschipper, flip it and rock it

Smack it up, and hack it up, and kill it with axes

The skill that I practice, will fill up the caskets

With half-ass rappers, who blew their gaskets

Fuck what’s hot, I’m about the classics

I used to have an Audi but I crashed it

Now I got a Beemer and it’s so fantastic

Used to be broke but with a hand me down jacket

Now I’m on the yacht with a new tennis racket

Maybe I went too far, but I got a nice crib and I got a fly car

And I’m not a millionaire, but I still live large

And I chill with stars, 'cause I’m ill with bars

When my daughter grow up, I’ll retire on Mars

With the hearts of MCs that I’ve sealed in jars (trophies)

Displayed on the mantle

Some shit I write’s too much for them to handle

So I put the pen down, blow out the candle, goodnight

Take 'em out with the sample

We starve

Look at one another short of breath

Walking proudly in our winter coats

Wearing smells from lavatories

Facing a dying nation

Of moving paper fantasies

(Lis…)

«…the family began to hear very strange raps at night and they looked all

over the house but couldn’t find the source of these raps…»