Hip-Hop Stepchild

Christian Holt

Lyrical Revolution on the Mic
Visions of liberated fist raising when I write
D'evils are lethal a slow turn of the knife
With these words we can heal
But with these words they'd rather kill
With these words I vow to seal
Bag em up and dump em like a Dexter Morgan kill
Hashtag No chill as the kids say
In the dojo my cities sensei
Show em how to wax tracks they ask how the shit pay
Off
Speak insight and they scoff
These halfway crooks shook when I go off
Hard Body on a track but they really soft
This games a rat race and I got a late start
My Gate never opened so I kicked it off its hinges and kept going
Lyrics flowing projectile
Spitting acidic writtens no reptile
Locked in my room writing the thoughts of a hip-hop stepchild
Hip-Hop Stepchild
Hip-Hop Stepchild
Hip-hop stepchild
Watching the toxins off a newport chain-smoke
Face in my pages till he days broke
Check my Facebook
About four or five times
But it's the same tired dimes
And the same niggas lying
Grab the jansport
Time to transport
To my brother who cooks the kind of music you hear outside of the dancefloor
My previous tracks were playful banter
A king needs an oscar for the way that I've been playing banner
I mastered how to refuse the gamma
No matter how much I'm damaged I still somehow manage to standup
Putting the pain in these punchlines so ya'll can feel it
Ya'll lames finished
My flow is Bane meets Riddick
Was lost in the dark until my eyes adjusted
Now I'm peeping the flock in the same slaughterhouse as me
Praying to God hoping that he sees me
Grassroots growing like the trees be

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