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Broken Toys
Slaine, The Arcitype
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Let's get into it, I've heard enough noise
This game I'm in is inundated with all these fuckboys
Bottom feeders and imitators, but I've been in a state of grace
It's an innovative, creative, disintegrating and destroy-
Any limit waiting, to dive in and demonstrating
'Cause I've been in hibernation, you're facing the menace waiting
An obvious inner sadist that's probably a mental patient
Sliding my pen engraving pain while your pencil's tracing
My inclination is anger, I'm dangerous and my brain's still
The angel dust that will change you, tangled up in the strangle
Thanks to pain pills and tranquils that dangle me from my ankles
They mangle, handcuff, and hang you
And bang your brain 'til it's painful
I ain't no saint or no angel, no, I just came with the Kangol
A new album, an angle that you can bang in Durangos
A good feeling to have when they unchain you like Django
Besides, how much can one pancreas handle?
So I just tuck the stuffing back into my fucking gut and
Come strutting back in this bitch with a couple stitches and buttons
It's holding me back together 'cause I was ditched in the rubbish
With the other broken toys disposed by a vicious public
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Can't believe in anything when nothing is really real here
In this bizzaro world, but we stay creative
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Everything under the sun, it's all been done
But still we stay creative in the midst of this bizzaro world
Rip-rip-rip-rip rap-rap-rap-rap-rappers out my radius
Every blip off the radar, so fat I can't eat with cadence
It's so erratic, these rappers would rather scrap with a ravenous
Grizzly bear than to battle this bastard who back like Lazarus
Spitting the most blasphemous, mixed with religious passages
Buckle up all my passengers, going to Hell and back in this
Handbasket that's packed with this radioactive hazardous
Hasn't it been a fabulous tour through the Devil's passages?
Before the pussies pass it out, here's some pistols, pass 'em out
Do the world a favor, get your brains to shit the shrapnel out
Smack 'em out, rough 'em up, they'll probably hyperventilate
The type to write they devastating might, but likely featherweight
Blast Joes, assholes, fronting like they capos
Until they build apartments and find they bodies with backhoes
They murderizing rap foes, you fertilize when grass grows
Yours truly, kinetic cunts and massholes
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Can't believe in anything when nothing is really real here
In this bizzaro world, but we stay creative
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Everything under the sun, it's all been done
But still we stay creative in the midst of this bizzaro world
See I'm trying to keep my patience and pace
And painting my way out this tainted grotto
But it ain't just the way you rap, it's your basic model
I'm modeled and molded by style as a older omens
A opus, a open letter for those endeavors
But I won't forget the M-M-M-Malcolms and Martins
The Marcus Garveys, the march in Harlem, a month before autumn
All the arbitrary kids in front of that brownstone
Every renowned jazz musician and
Artist who arguably wouldn't pop today
'Cause nowadays it's all about commercial cadence
It's clout chasing adjacent to Jason
Chafing his prey up in Crystal Lake
Your pistol's fake, everything you spit is bait
The lure in your listeners, listen in as I stitch the break
Inside a social fabric, the fabrication
The aggregations of algorithms purchased with cold cash, blatant
Basically you've been boring me half to death
You can pay for your popularity but never my respect
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Can't believe in anything when nothing is really real here
In this bizzaro world, but we stay creative
Round and round we go, right back on this carousel
In this land of broken toys, clout chasing, and fairytales
Everything under the sun, it's all been done