It’s just words in a pattern and they served on a platter
I deserve all my stature, so what’s the matter?
I just learn what is real, I record what you feel
I’m the best in the field, so what’s the deal?
In the back of you rappers, so what’s the matter?
I’m just givin’ the steel, anyone who can hear it
Mouthin’ off to my piers, so what’s the deal?
Know I keep it one hundred, so no retreat from my hunted
b#tch, you keepin’ it fifty like In Da Club makin’ ruckus
Man, what’s makin’ me different? I hear these people on Twitter
Sound the same as we spitting, I fear these people are bitter
I’m not here to please the people, I am hear to feed my ego
To release my freakin’ cheat codes and to beat you ’til you feeble
Medieval with my lyrics like I’m out to burn some witches
‘Cause all you cookin’ up is just some nothin’ in the kitchen
I had to just say, “f#ck it,” sign ’em—M.C.D. and Ph33nom
You mad you cannot touch us, find me leavin’ Yeo breathin’
It’s Yeo ’till I die, you see though, I mean no lie
I be no Al Pachino but we know I keep it right (like)
“Cusa, Alex, whatever, how you keep it together?”
“All this rappin’ for chedder, how do you deal with the pressure?”
I get it’s not for the faint of heart, when I’m rippin’ rappers apart
Splittin’ atoms, you cannot fathom what I record, it’s just
It’s just words in a pattern and they served on a platter
I deserve all my stature, so what’s the matter?
I just learn what is real, I record what you feel
I’m the best in the field, so what’s the deal?
In the back of you rappers, so what’s the matter?
I’m just givin’ the steel, anyone who can hear it
Mouthin’ off to my piers, so what’s the deal?
Y’all are dumber than Game, got zero f#cks to my name
If I could generate, simulate how I process the pain
I make it work with the circumstances I got
Make it hurt when I’m servin’ raps, rhymin’ or not
It doesn’t matter if I’m singin’ or swingin’, they synonyms
‘Cause I’m bringin’ the minimum, you still chokin’ on cinnamon
Who you messin’ with is the president, ya’ll are specimens
This my estimate: ya’ll won’t even just last a minute man
I got a knack for this, stabbed in the back for whackest sh#t
Rappers are just some collateral accidents, I’m convinced
I’m not a pacifist, godly like I’m Lazarus
Y’all don’t know the half of it, got me lookin’ hazardous
This is it like I’m Michael Jackson, fall asleep like I’m killed in action
Talkin’ sh#t till I lost the passion, pistol whippin’ you kissin’ asses
Competition, opposition, there’s is no difference, f#ck all this sh#t Optimistic, narcissistic, how the f#ck am I still not convicted?
It’s just words in a pattern and they served on a platter
I deserve all my stature, so what’s the matter?
I just learn what is real, I record what you feel
I’m the best in the field, so what’s the deal?
In the back of you rappers, so what’s the matter?
I’m just givin’ the steel, anyone who can hear it
Mouthin’ off to my piers, so what’s the deal?
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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CusaX Lyrics – What’s The Deal?