The Shame

I'm the brainchild of the God's brain/

You're the brainchild of a child's brain/

You rappers give me a ripping migraine/

Your style ain't worth a single rice grain/

Overhyped lames won't approach Jewelz/

'Cause it makes no sense like playing b-ball with a Bosu/

Or Goku watching Dragonball on Roku/

Like the show new, like "I told you! I told you!"/

Every one of your songs is obscene mess/

You seem stressed/

It's 'cause your label pulls the strings like a seamstress/

I never knew rap skills was determined by the length of a limousine's stretch/

You pawns better understand you will never touch the King's throne like a queen's dress/

Every other song you rap like it's high noon in the mean West/

Congrats, you're telling nightmares, now kids sleep and see death/

Hook:

So come, little kiddies, come, come it's a death race!/

& run with the pretty scissors & the chef blades/

We're hung by their greedy fingers and a necklace/

...Cuz I never knew a pen game cost a gem chain/

I never knew a pen game cost a gem chain!/ (repeat 2x)

Shame

Bang, Bang! My slang make brains hang/

In thought. See, I got you caught like a chain gang/

Coming from the land of the desperate hustlaz, even Dracula came tryna slang fangs/

So when I'm bringing you change it's not charity/

So protect your pretty Rolex & watch carefully/

Cuz many people want me to stop, terribly/

But you'd be surprised when I heal you, that's shock therapy/

I'll trap you in, lock the door for days/

So run circles with your dead end raps/

Going out of breath tryna follow my steps/

But rappers get lost in my tracks 'cause my flows amaze (flow's a maze)/

I used to roam the streets to fight crime/

On a BMX & still recollect in those times/

Making raps some called the best, yet had no dime/

So don't worry if I write checks, I write rhymes!/

Hook

So hurry, scurry, give these people what they came for/

Another auto-tune coon promoting drugs & chain stores/

Me, I do it for my boys with whom I used to sleep on the same floor,/

Woke by hunger's untamed roar/

I'm just a poor man, rich in the Lord's eyes/ 

Who used to live on the dark side/

A hood Darth Vader/

Listening to Cormega/

Mask on, chillin with street fighters—no Vega!/

Ok, time for the main event/

You rappers just a side note—treble clef/

I warned you verse 1, verse 2, now verse 3—that's a triple threat/

Yet y'all still act like hard rocks, till you get a taste of mega death (Megadeth)/

Well things must have changed/

'Cause I never knew rap skills was determined by the price of your champagne/

I'm heading back the Black Cave/

With the windows down, screaming, "Shame on the rap game!"/