Noveliss - Mic Swordz Lyrics

Lugging bags on these trains and plains shit will annoy you
Told myself to just buy clothes when I touch down on the foreign soil
Never know when the borders might close they out for oil
Bang that old Slum dog
Dilla no Danny Boil
Toil with fools
Screaming O'doyle rules the Immaculate
Billy Madison go back to school and play hookie
Since I never skipped class
They overlooked me
Headphones on fully
Honor roll in a hoody
Shit I aint even try weed until like my third year in college
Then Danny Brown got me high in Atlanta that boy was wildin
Fold up my memoirs and put them in my wallet
And collect pennies all for my thoughts
Or maybe dollars
I Am the Bone of My Sword
You don't wanna cross blades
On an off day put emcees in the Crippler Cross Face Without further ado
Welcome to Mic Swordz you might die by my mic check while i survive yours
An eye sore to those that can't handle a massacre
The boom bap intergalactic classic as Galaga

There's no shade of grey to the grass here
I been on tour for a month
Seen the world more times in the past year than you will in your whole rap career
But battle fear of being 30 with no way out of that job app atmosphere
Floating around in that
No backup plan stratosphere
Where fallback options mean you doubted yourself before you got here
Flying across the water
This time tomorrow I'll be back at that dead end for my son and my daughter
Tryna' be the man of the house and still dreaming
I'll chase them with them on my back
You know what pressure does to pipes and I ain't never dealt with no leakage
In light of my lack of decisiveness
I've decided that I should just
Roll this entire pack of zig zags and blow my mind to dust
But I don't smoke
But punching the clock will lead you down a road that you ain't been before
Being surrounded by people who settling like taking contested jump shots instead of taking it to the hole
And everything that I've written I hold close to my soul They broke the mold when they made Noveliss
Words are weapons blast thoughts
The Columbine Columnist
Sweatpants and hoodies fuck your stylist