Sterns to Western - People Under The Stairs

It’s like fabulous,

We all out keens, bless the talented

So who’s here to handle this

I’m the prime candidate

Keeping a far distance

between me and the common folk

doesn’t matter if you shall rely to rip your monotone

they call me L-E-X-U girl you know the rest

I add an S because I’m special

get well and got blessed

So we can battle you n me on payperview

Kid Lexus coming to a neighbourhood near you

Now you in danger, shell shock, now you got caught

Your plan wasn’t well thought, yo, perhaps you should walk

No need for lollygagging, especially when Brandon’s rappin on the mic

I’m like a cannon so it ain’t hard to imagin

turn my mic off, I gotta go, I gotta be alone

I feel it now, I’m goin home, somebody please take me home

Double K

Ayo, I think that I should mention, the way that we be lynchin'

utilizing the beat like housewives to the kitchen

Man, it’s Stephen Cool King, bring horror in ya life

Causin pain and strife holdin a black knife

No need for the violence cuckoo straighter hair like Violet

Not worryin about the back talk we fuckin trains of thought

derail ya whack emcees, while I rock on the track

Take a puff on the black, man I don’t wanna hear ya rap

so don’t do it in my presence, I rip ya like a gift

destroy your whole direction, you’re going to need protection

Aw fuck it, I’m like sherm on your final term paper

we drivin you nuts, just put a P in the suss

yeah man I’m kinda clever like old jewish dudes

Put the pen to the paper and what ya got’s a fresh caper

matter the dappa dee and the threads are 88

and I ain’t getting off the mic

till I clean my funky plate

Ayo, we’re not done, we’re not done

More shows, free booze, bad news, and new cruise

Fool we come to ya town be prepared to get slapsed

So sing along to the funk and wait for the homey to rap

It’s like lalalala laaaaaa lalalalalaaaaa lalalalalaaaaa lalalalalaaaa

Thes One

The park from the normal tracks when I brainstorm

I rain forever and every last track sort of fits

That’s scap they stole my shit that most cleverly writ

so witness that poetic aesthetic perfection spittin cat

publicly published the beat phat with a ph

deconstruct corrupt mcs that front bay

Oh well amazin all that junk punk I sunk

ya battleship dunce once my lips spit arightoutta ya spine

Soundwaves, thes on the dotted line, and skip the fine print

when I imprint my mint monogram of fame

on ya skeletal frame, since I stock

graph the vat like Rustonium stock caps

they will make ya needle skip, make ya caps clog, scuff ya shell toes

I flip the fake rappers like Al pogs

I got a rhyme for every fine girl

and wittier like jam the track like beavers on a railroad

near a river when I deliver

the cool concentrate it shivers ya prostate

I get pissed off when I gotta wait

for rappers to finish their freestyles

every time I rhyme my train of thought

I turn style to Bart, I’m worthwhile

like the Blemids chillin in Springfield

I’m ill and still don’t do no shows in Shelbyville

At jams I kill competition like the running man

running things like airbrushed jeans a gaddam.