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ascension - the king of sax lyrics

[intro]
yeah
i’m feelin’ this beat
get ready y’all
droppin’ bars like no one’s business

[verse 1]
he’s serving me chicken curry like he’s in a frickin’ hurry
he’s whipping up a dang flurry like he’s some c-cky professional-looking culinary
next gordon ramsey maybe? whatever, he seems like a god d-mn hippie
i’ma dress you in confetti, kneel down and plea cause i’m comin’ at you like chung lee from mortal kombat 3
so pay up my fee and flee or i’ma show you no mercy, you creepy friendly son of an msg-90
but you ain’t no dragon, i’ma show you how i’m the true armageddon, so
cut the shenanigans, quit acting like alyson hannigan and let me be my pagan god again
me, myself and i, and maybe some self-fulfilled idiots i like
everyone else, i’m a pike, so take a hike before i cut you like ike
well, hypothetically, technically, normally, of-f-cking-coursely i’m the referee of my own victory
my vocabulary is like a library full of dictionaries lined up perfectly just to slay thee
but don’t mess with me, i’m too legendary
i’ma make my own history so don’t connect me with my family’s legacy
eh, this rap is too hard, i gotta go take a cr-p, give me a second i’ll be right back
but maybe i should go back to stereotype working it on street 33, forty hours a week
or maybe i could possibly mix some mustard and custard to make a t-rd out of all these r-t-rds you trusted
nerd!

[verse 2]
i kinda wanna rap but i’m about to cr-p sauerkraut on your lap
but you see i fought you while taking a nap and still taught you in a snap
d-mn though, i’m spitting so much fire, i’m evaporating all the water in mankato, and givin’ ’em a drought
look, you know, i know i seem immature and i like, don’t give a sh-t ’bout nothing, but d-mn you wrong, so
i’ma prove to you that i’m a descendant of buddha with a little bit of christ, shiva
and every other answer to life’s problems mixed in there too, yeah
so don’t, i don’t, won’t play games, i’ll prove to you my meaning and maybe get shot by cupid along the way
so join the nation, let’s rise up to the angel’s station, let’s end this conversation
i’m not liking the tension of the attention
so here’s to our ascension

[outro]
i have these problems that i confess i can’t compress
so i will rise with my impression and convert depression into a method of connection
between me and likewise people who suffer from oppression
as i sit on the bus, percussing my seat, i slowly realize the difference between problem and trivia
the true problem i’ve been dealing with for an amount way long than necessary

- the king of sax lyrics

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