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Kimetsu no Yaiba Freestyle

by Devin Dabney

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about

(slayer.)

lyrics

My mission is Ponyboy: kicking it golden, holding percentages,
folding dough while chilling upon the coast,
envision me overdosing on sickness, overflowing with flow,
the hose going until the whole row’s flooded like Venice,
flicking wrists like whipping the soda over the stove,
I’m cold—hoes should know that I’m froze, but I suppose these hoes have to be told,
when I’m rapping these odes that my gravity’s low, acrobatics on float—
if you’re new to the show, this flow is food for the soul,
no artificial preservatives ever added in post—nope…
don’t you panic; all organic, fry it up,
I’m getting calls, you niggas all getting dial tones,
Can I kick it? Yes—don’t even try to stop,
don’t you forget it; Quest—that’s what my Tribe is called,
Kimetsu no Yaiba soon as the mic is on,
I’m Zenitsu: killing you with my eyes closed…
Got your girl watching anime in my second home,
she told me “get in the box” like I was Nezuko
when it’s time to eat, I don’t hesitate—make her gasp and moan,
turn on the beat, make her animate to my beck and call,
Alucard—reanimate y’all, you live in my image whenever you ball,
I’m spitting it vivid ‘cause I’m really living it, never pretending, I’ll never be false,
this shit is authentic, I’m penning a victory down, forever the memory long
I’m winning and grinning, I show my teeth with that 10 karat—everything gold…

With that katana, my stroke is like katakana,
hiragana and kanji, conjure the jungle—Jumanji,
constantly hunting and lodging, steady ducking and dodging,
watching cops but I’m silent, cause where there are sirens
there is bound to be violence, even if there’s compliance,
exercising their right to be state-sanctioned firing squads…

America busy stacking the deck, the card dealers,
they play the game, claim the police are all victims,
my people march, stay peaceful, but all depicted,
as pure monsters, ‘rising up from the tar’ villains,
kill them with kindness, win the fight with my heart healing,
no hard feelings, emphasis on the ‘hard feelings,’
your white Jesus get ripped to pieces and parts with it,
he Julius Caesar, I’m sneaking up in the dark, creeping in your villa,
willing to kill the evil in all creatures on-demand, watch me expand…

Give me some room rapping with Redman,
Ludacris, Jay anybody on Def Jam, Rhymesayers, et cetera,
climbing the mountain like Celeste, the best finna level up,
getting my mozzarella, feta, cheddar, lettuce, and breading up!

credits


This track uses the instrumental for "Flava in Ya Ear" by Craig Mack.

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Devin Dabney Indianapolis, Indiana

the best rapper alive. period.

Indianapolis, IN

soundcloud.com/hiphopslasthope

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