Arthouse Fire - Bloodsport Pt. II [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

I was a child writing sonnets, acquiring higher knowledge

While you fuccbois couldn’t grow up with hydroponics-

You marks better tuck in your chain and hide your wallets

If not, you put your shine on the line like fiber optics-

(High exalted) The man of the final hour

Try to flip the script and I’m climbing behind the counter-

The only way that I drop it's like Eisenhower

Cause the radio's been ticking me off; no Geiger Counter-

My fire power scorches shit like in the torture skit

I can take you out of this world as quick as Morpheus-

Form a first and send an MC-Fly’in back

Cause his DeLorean’s the only one to make a fire track-

I treat a cypher with cats like MILF huntin’

Those pussies can claim that they’re tight till I fist fuck ‘em-

So keep sniffin’ my lines; my shit’s bumpin’

These lips spit out more pies than a brick oven-