Rap is something you do
Hip hop is something you are
Traumatic echo

Yo, check it out, I'm rapping right now
How many syllables can I fit into this sentence right now
And even though it's written I'ma go free style right now
Free Style:
Rest in peace mainstream
I'ma RIP you into pieces like Pangaea
Yeah
Our earthquakes that quake the earth into earthshakes that make you squirm
Turntables
The four elements come together like the president
Named Air Force One, KRS One
If I impress one rapper I did my job
Except my job is to live with my mom
I'm bomb, you are terrorist, without me you don't exist
You are pissed that I'm so good at this
My consciousness expands to a million conscientiousnesses
I've got one mistress, her name is hip hop
I only love her to piss off my in-laws
Don't get it wrong, I write these songs
But I have a secret weapon that I brought along:

This is my backpack, check out its straps
This is real rap, none of that crap
This is my backpack, it has my rhyme book
That's how I wrote this, this is my hook
This is my backpack, it has CDRs
When you hear my fast rap you'll be seeing stars
This is my backpack, check out my backpack
It is my backpack, it's not yours
Living through my lyrics so lyrically I'll be whatever I want to be
Backpack, headphones, Socrates' philosophies
I'm droppin' these anomalies on top of these monstrosities
I'm building up monopolies, I'm probably a novelty
Yo yo
So much pain in my brain, when the rain came the same
Can't tame my main frame like a chain gang
In my brain in the rain
Dang
Mathematically I'm eliminated tragically
Metaphorically I'm considered a minority
My geometry is unflawlessly unapologeticy
True school hip hop is where I'm really meant to be
My pen is a light saber
My ink bleeds my soul into the paper
Man it's a lifesaver
My beats by Dre headphones are glorious
I won't stop until I'm lyrically victorious

This is my backpack, check out its straps
This is real rap, none of that crap
This is my backpack, it has my rhyme book
That's how I wrote this, this is my hook
This is my backpack, it has CDRs
When you hear my fast rap you'll be seeing stars
This is my backpack, check out my backpack
It is my backpack, it's not yours
Welcome to Christmas, my lyrical gift never misses
It only lifts us up to riches
Of the mind, 'cause making money's wrong
I'm about to pass the mic to my man Prof

I am now currently taking a mic from my man Type
I'm making sure my rhymes are tight every single night
Hey fuck the mainstream, I'll never be like that
I stay true and write my rhymes on an iPad

Prof, name drop
Prof, name drop
Hip hop, hip hop
Hip hop, hip hop
We belong together, like the beach and flip flops
Hip hop

When I say Hip, you say Hop
Hip - Hop
Hip - Hop
When I say Don't, you say Stop
Don't - Stop
Don't - Stop

No, ah, seriously stop. What, what are you wearing on your, what?
This is my backpack, check out its straps
This is real rap, none of that crap
This is my backpack, it has my rhyme book
That's how I wrote this, this is my hook
This is my backpack, it has CDRs
When you hear my fast rap you'll be seeing stars
This is my backpack, check out my backpack
It is my backpack, it's not yours

Wack off rhythms, smash hit

I think I'm about to kick in a capella right now

Dude, is this the dumbest thing we've done yet?