Chorus Guilty. Murder In The Verse Degree/ Nationwide, cops on a search for me/ Martial Law, state of emergency Because I’m Guilty, Murder In the Verse Degree.
V1 – SESSION Session, will be the next cat ya idolize / worshipped for thousand of years after my demise / so I’d advise you try to hide, cause 4 you’d get divided by/ lyrically, you could be me, and we still wouldnt see I to I / Judge Session this court’s presided by, and you tried to lie/ under oath, hand on my notebook, without a alibi/ that a guy, you better quit now while you got spine fluid/ fuck rap, I’ll grab a blade and set your mind to it/ I knew it, ya dome has over blown gas/ in a trunk kissin ya own ass is were they gonna find you in/ divine human, rhymin for days, finish off foes/ my mind is a maze, were minotaurs roam/ I got a senators dome, politikin to get my tape played/ and get paid, flow off the chains like escaped slaves/ make way, Im strapped wit explodin rhymes/ put the track to ya ear, take cover and blow ya mind.
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V2 – SESSION in raps you facin, someone causin lacerations to blast ya face in / and make you wear a mask like Jason / you harass the nation wit procrastination / make you leave the game as fast as Mason like its an evacuation / tax evasion, if you owe me / make ya face look like a patch of raisins, my concepts an immaculation / use imagination like masterbation / a fans fascination turns to infatuation cause Im past amazin / the hash Im blazin will make me look like half a asian / spit leave your habitation wit heavy saturation / the fact you wastin my time, runnin what you outta do / before I slaughter you, make your offensive lines do an audible / you know what? its somewhat honorable / cause suckin as hard as you do must be hard to do too / gettin served like I ordered you food, Im the best at rhymes / packin my number 2’s to withstand the test of time / so hold it if you wanna hold it, dog this mic’s mine / I’m not ahead of my time, I’m ahead of my life’s time / got the tight lines, ill voice and a harder flow, so you outta go / thinkin you nice and get robbed for ya heart of gold.
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V3 – SESSION On mixtapes I spit straight atcha bruh, and massacre / ambassadors, get papes, and laugh at ya / I’ll rip fakes and amatuers in two and battle half a ya / get raped, askin round the cypha how my dick taste when I rap witcha / I mastered the flow wit a bit rate of that crap of ya’s / no mistake if I ask for ya, make ya bitch date a bachelor / you a disgrace, suckin like Dracula wit a big plate, makin an ass of ya / you aint a legend cause you switched plates wit a Acura / at this rate, Ima fracture the bones on ya rib plates / and snatch ya cadaver right out the back of da mid waist / I punch the earth and hit plates like a spatula / swing were your hips lay, unless you hit play on my sampler / make ya chic wait?, Im snatchin her, have my dick ate / while Im smackin the bitch face, and its late for mackin her / they say my shits great, spectacular / thinkin its smooth sailin till i have ya own shipmates attackin ya.
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