Hey kid, listen I'm the illest But looks like yall forgot Prolly too much bullshit, pussy and pot Let the battles egnite! From Lucy Ford to Rappers Delight My lyrical pose show rappers the light There are more styles of writing Than punchies, poems and violence You can write whatever stuck under your eyelid I do still have faith in this Even though lyricists be leaving like atheists So I'm lacing this in the state of vacancy Basically, I'm too proud to confess my flaws I'm sticking to collecting props, connecting dots Wrecking spots, backed by the heart of friends Easy come, easy go, hit four corners and start again That's more or less, everything I need to say To every one I adress, now go out there and change the game Me? What? naw, I'm the kid closing curtains Perfect? No, I'm a brew slamming guy with a purpose Cats hate that I like to get down and drink beer But guess what kittens?! I'm still here! Apart from knocking bars and skribblin rhymes I never claimed to be divine; never will, never have So why the hell should I act like I am? Write about sinful feeling or rekindled healing Write about dicking sluts and drinking moets Write about life's crossroads and every cockroach Write about paid weed, mainstream, fuck even the A-Team Write about devoured pills that thrills when killing Everything. Sincerely yours, the illest.