The End Is Near - Ab-Soul
[Verse 1: Ab-Soul] Right on my tongue, look Yo, check, my flow is unknown to man yet Dammit, keep running around like an annual banquet Made a withdrawal with your broad, she left the bank wet Rub her like a condom contemplating dangerous sex I'm unimpressed with your talent, skill still appeal A maestro on the mic though, I'm almost ill as Camille for real Ain't never runnin' from nothin', I'm fit to tread mills Name another movement makin' time stand still Hiiipower to the third degree Murder, we emerged and it was an emergency It's closed curtains for you worthless earthlings Hurtin' cause I rise like mercury in the burning heat Word on the street Soulo done done it again Look at me, I used to match a dub sack with my friends Now we smokin' by the O, like the letters P and N Ain't have to start watching CNN for you to see an end It's coming quicker than you think, don't mean to rub it in Like lubriderm, but you should learn that you could never fuck with him Ab's gettin' bigger, but I ain't do no sit-ups Got the hiccups cause I keep puffin' Ports without the filter Feel the vibe switch in every single room that I enter Told my bitch to make room for a tomb for her placenta, nigga I fuck her 'til she have a seizure in my leisure time She know I love her, also know I don't need her Cause I'm a king and I smoke a lot of weed That makes sense, it's about 33 ounces in a liter In layman's terms you lames had better pay respect Or you'll be sleepin', they'll be at your wake payin' their respects [Verse 2: Mac Miller] Said it's the soul cold wickedness Old folk killin' shit Most dope syndicate, the GoPros filmin' it Good coke sniffin' shit, broke no benefits Smack him in his face and then I'm blowin' smoke into it Obliterated on a big estate Shit, I figure fame is just a bitches game That's why there's raindrops drippin' off my windowpane And I was gettin' money far before the Fisker came Official name's got plugs like a new strain does You may be hot inside your city, homie you ain't us You can't trust nothin' if it's comin' with a dollar sign It's genius comin' from out of my awkward mind Cross the line, it's just not the time And he ain't thinkin', put that red dot on his mind I'm Santana's bandana, against me you don't stand a chance Call you fancy pants cause when you're drunk you do the hammer dance If there's a random chance you're fuckin' up my Phantom plans I'mma go bananas and blam 'em into the ambulance My mother's sonogram was like a mission statement Cause I wasn't patient, left that pussy in a spaceship Y'all fools basic, your parents both racist I'm lawyering these hoes out here, beatin' cases She eatin' dick so she plead the fifth Yeah, it's Larry Fish, homie he's a myth You sunk my battleship, I'll be in Nazareth by where Jesus live And your homie with you, he's a bitch, some vagina shit Gettin' faded, go and sin in Vegas I'm just observent, man of different faces Some dick-licker want my kids in her She a switch-hitter, told her bring her bitch with her The dick split her like a swisher then I'm outty, outty Never eat the pussy if it's lousy, it's lousy I'm the prodigal son With ominous, Nostradamus anonymous visions Confidence, some Obama shit, in Mocassins they can In moccasins they can ante, alright
Artist: Ab-Soul
Title: The End Is Near