“The Dynasty”

Posted on October 11, 2012

The Dynasty


Lyrics by KZ

Music: Jay-Z’s “Dynasty” instrumental


(Click for music; lyrics begin at 0:12)


[Verse 1]

I appreciate the fact you’ve taken the time to battle me

But your style is silicone tits; it feels a little plastic-y

Your only pair of Nikes is getting dirty and raggedy

Skinny pants half off your ass; a public display of faggotry

I’m known for staying calm in times of chaos and calamity

Challenge me? Get upset; man, it’s a fucking travesty

You’re half my age, probably only half as bad as me

I’ll squeeze five shots and stand around to laugh at thee

I’m not a follower; I avoid the gang mentality

Do the work by yourself or go and find a job at Applebee’s

Your tired-ass street rhymes are not attracting me

A big mouth and fake heart are not a part of my anatomy

Keep entertaining Nino P. with all of your pageantry

Abduct your whole family, let em ride inside the van with me

So go ahead; grab a blade and take a stab at me

Shakespeare on Sowest; we’ll classify it as a tragedy

[Verse 2]

I’m hungry, you’re thirsty; we’re chasing the same dime

If you need to bring a crew, go ahead; I’ll bring mine

Better come with something stronger than a Hi-Point nine

I got a Level II vest on, and my chopper’s working fine

Leave the media contemplating another senseless crime

And the intersection coated with a fine red slime

I’ve used my gun before; in fact I work it overtime

My MAC-11 so engraved I could blind em in a bind

It could be midnight in winter, and I’m still gonna shine

We’re both smoking on pine; both trying to get signed

But look in a dictionary; I’m the definition of grind

Put my feet up while you’re rapping, man; I hope you don’t mind

I don’t showcase raw emotion; everything is by design

You couldn’t make me see you with a ten foot tall sign

Your bars are pretty sloppy; ain’t no use in even tryin

I’m God, this is rapture; you’re getting left behind

[Verse 3]


What are you here for? Talk shit or contribute bars

Put up your rented house, and I’ll put up my car

You eight-bar superstars; with big dreams of going far

Time to put on the mask like chinaman facing SARS

Make absolutely sure that you’re ready to go to war

I plan out every verse, so the bars are always pure

You insecure rappers voices cracking premature

Ejaculation; You’re an MC? Guess what; I’m the cure

Are you a gangster, lyricist, or pussy; which one is it?

If you’re ever here in Akron, look me up and have a visit

Our women are beautiful; the marijuana is exquisite

I was here many years before LeBron gave us the business

An Akrowdy native; same geographical interests

But his riches stack taller, and he’s been at the Olympics

Never met him face-to-face; but I’m told he still visits

I respect his hustle; but know better than be a witness

[Verse 4]


I’m not a racist; your skin tone doesn’t matter

But I’ll grab these wack rappers; whip em like slave masters

Cop an attitude, I might come through and bash ya

Raise a fist to fight me back, and I just might blast ya.

I’ll give em a splash of my spectacular vernacular

Verbally destroy anybody they call a challenger

Send your girl over, I guarantee you that I’m smashing her

Displaced her pelvic bone; rib cage’s getting shattered

She’s kinda thick, but I think she’s getting fatter

Her chest looks like her back and her forehead’s even flatter

Got cavities in her mouth open wider than a cavern

On a gross final note, squirt on her back a gob of batter

Luxury tax her; make her buy my breakfast sandwiches

My dick still on her breath; give her back for French kisses

The kid’s not a rapper; then how’d he manage to spit this?

Couple rappers pissed me off, I enlisted on their shit list



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