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one man cypher - tenn buick lyrics

[intro]

yo…
it’s your boy tenn buick a.k.a. johnny barvo
i’mma go real slow so y’all can catch these bars, aight?

[verse 1]

how you measure an mc? time to get the ruler
y’all ain’t sick, y’all just playin’ sick, bunch of ferris buellers
listened to some luda, now you wanna act a fool, cuz?
mics at ten paces, you don’t wanna duel son
this beat is like a drug, now your boy is hopped up
i’m the f-ckin’ janitor, these n-ggas gettin’ mopped up
almost to the top son, really ain’t got to far to go
all these rappers ballin’ out, i’m here to crash the party yo
i could do this all day, it really ain’t that hard to flow
i murder beats heinously, 5-0 never charge me though
you could call me ken, why? i stay with the barbies, yo
i was in the weight room, you n-ggas doin’ cardio
i’m on my darwin, survival of the fittest
you stop when you tired, and i stop when i’m finished
which mc wanna test me, who think that he the sickest?
y’all must play with buddy holly, all i hear is crickets

[verse 2]

i stay exposin’ n-ggas like a murder movie climax
i can’t take ’em serious, like blonde chicks with nice racks
you poppin’ thangs? how many could you pop?
i got way too much beef, i’m an overstocked butcher shop
still hungry, starvin’ like a madman
i’m the dynamic duo, i’m robbin’, with a bat, man
i only wanna chat, jk i’ll choke a b-tch
i’m djokovic n-gga, crazy with the backhand
they just barkin’ son, no bite, they talk and run
i’m michael j. fox on your block, yea i’m parkin’ son
watch yourself, don’t get hype, cuz i’ll snipe ya
i call your momma chapman because i like to pipe her
and i don’t even liker her, i just wanna be your father
and say son, try harder, your last track was john carter
an epic fail, it hurts to hear the truth
just call me john wilkes, i’m an -ss-ssin in the f-ckin’ booth

[verse 3]

it’s the microphone murderer, i leave a rapper shook
wanna get these bars? you should f-ckin’ read a book
you should hear the fans, tenn buick, he the man
call me peter pan, i don’t really f-ck with hooks
yeah, i got bars upon bars
you bourgie motherf-ckers got stars upon thars
on some dr. seuss sh-t, on some mother goose sh-t
all these n-ggas talk sh-t and then they never do sh-t
yeah you aight, but real talk, you a man of limits
when i get on the mic, i’m popeye with a can of spinach
any mc wanna see their ego damaged, bring it
i spit them sick bars with a dope flow you can’t inhibit
uh, just call a n-gga rambo
always draw first blood, stainin’ up my vans yo
how can i show mercy? i don’t drive a lambo
act like you a hater but you secretly a fan though

[verse 4]

you could change your swagger and get a new walk
but mimickin’ me is like pizza out of new york
it just ain’t the same, n-gga, what’s your name, n-gga?
i’ll bury you alive, you david blaine, n-gga
b-tch rappers flee the block
you ain’t got your hand in rap, you don’t even box
i spit crack on tracks like i’m breathin’ rocks
seen your girl on tinder, i’m a thievin’ fox
i swipe her, she was down like a duck’s feather
said you upset her, then she said i f-ck better
she talk a lot of sh-t about you in these love letters
you like a bland cheeto, you ain’t got enough cheddar
uh, don’t let me get the jump on you
i got nothin’ but bars, so i’m pullin’ up on you
keep your chin up, or better keep your chin tucked
knock a b-tch rapper out and then i take a dump on you

[outro]

i’m sh-ttin’ on these mcs…

- tenn buick lyrics

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