Music bangin' out a dimly lit smoke filled bedroom
Speakers vibrate as songs are simply made to wreck crews
33 1/3 revelations per minute
Is the speed in which the rhymes that this guy is gettin' written
I'm spittin' nothin' but the best, don't make me start again
Cuz when I stop that's when I got 45 RPMs
I need my needle on my turntable or give me nothing
Vinyl spinnin' and I'm grinnin' just like the kid's a junkie
Whether country or funky soul jams in which I'm bumpin'
Every single genre cuz Sean will never ever stop loving
This shit's my life, it's my wife, music my first love
Before I ever hit some pussy or got to hit some nugs
As a toddler wearing tie dye onesies that my mother
And my father got from the Dead show, don't even bother
Came out the womb, with Beatles posters in my bedroom
So don't expect to hear the same kind of beats as the next dude
Unless you, respect the vets who blessed crews
Don't step to the Klinik unless your rhymes are authentic or else I'll wreck you
Some are too gentle, some are too fretful
I'll spit several verses that's on point like a Number 2 pencil
I'm heavy like metal and I'm harder than rocks
This is the special sort of peril from the heart of a god
You can't wrestle it off, I'm like the rebel that's lost
And got vengeful in temple with the Devol in which I crossed
This is the level I'm on, if y'all wanna get it on
I wrote this verse in like 2 minutes then I spit it on a song
I'm sippin' Deans and Karkov, while I read the Quran
Then I'll skeet on a freak and pack trees in my bong
How bout a round of applause, go head and pound all your palms
Together, better do it now or else I'll sound the alarm
That means the mountain I'm on? Or in the ocean and sea?
You're just a fountain or pond, so y'all ain't fuckin' with me
So that was 32 bars and now this is 33
I should stop at 34 but that's just what y'all would think
That's what the weak would do
I'm not the type that likes to bring it to that sorta low, ya know that's why they always say you better Think It Thru
And be original, your own individual style
That cats are lackin', so they're almost forced to listen to
And respect you too, even if the music ain't
What they're feelin', but one thing they cannot say is that it's fake
And so I hope you take these words to heart
You bite your favorite artist's style, but steady claimin' that you're worlds apart
Anyone with two ears can hear it
And if you're favorite artist is dead? Don't try to say you can channel their spirit!
I'm just tryna clear the game of all the whackness
Bombastics against the drastic rap cats that's backwards
That lack in the departments that's important
That's why the Mefadone Klinik is always steady recordin'

*Interlude*