[Verse 1 Martin Connor] Heart Smarts His rap? Fineartart No guns Or knives But you can bet he rhymes sharp Chosen one Prodigal son Breathes fire From mouth to lung My tongue ll burn like suns Til my work is done Until youre none Dont ask, just turn and run From the newest white rapper Rockin the suburbs So sick its just absurd Rhymes nouns and verbs for verbal murder That wordy terror And rarely errors If there or not well ya never knew Go ask someone theyll say Martin... who? Cause when I make moves, I dont walk I just slide on through no prints, hand or foot Ya got no clue [Verse 2 Martin Connor] Come step Get blessed with slick text One wrecked Two wrecked Next, next next Check! How I check these mock hecklers Check mate mate this shits chess not checkers You better get a better way to settle vendettas Yeah I rap but I dont buy your barettas Ill just fire my rhymes Not a nine but still Literally not figuratively blow ya mind Like coke with lines that are straight and fine Just not the kind ya sniff to blow some time While I write my rhymes with out erasers Get it right without a case of writers block Or the type from cops Hit your upper and your lower like kinds from caps lock To leave your life brief like the one a business mans got [Verse 3 Martin Connor] Im the slicker bastard Master trickster Quicker classier craftier rapper The faster slasher Just not an actor Or a slacker Hipster basher Hipper cracker Mister macker Sister Smasher I could do this all day sicker Do this all week thrasher Its rather sad your Raps are whacker been rapping since Pampers Been doing this a day Guess Im just nastier flashier Cause I been schooled by masters Classical musics pastor But bad tempered Whos Batch, ya nerd? Cant be what I heard
connor, martin, wrecked, ya, fineartart