Self-Coronation | ft. Harlechryzz [STTZ MM Challenge]

[Intro] Look close. Gold-rimmed ego on entry. My presence sours the lineup. You wanted to hear what’s in me? Self-coronation. [Verse 1] Broad-back brag rap, black-tag vilification host blood, judge gut, forensic predation forty slots in, I can smell weak lacquer I hear false pageantry plead for adoration gold on the self-love, spite in the diction self-worship opened, fed back richer long-list butcher, shortlist scavenger one weak boast near me gets flagged as amateur full bulk on display, whole posture tyrannic mine hits rich, yours shows up famished I host for hours, hear stacks of rented grandeur one pass through the queue, whole reputations panic ego packed so dense, every entrance turns manic my bars hit lush, your loudness starts rotting one verse leaves handprints on favorites one verse starts rank incineration [Hook] Self-coronation gold-rimmed devastation close-read execution vile self-deification one pass from me mass disfiguration my self-love gets gilded yours meets incineration [Verse 2] Prestige killer, profane fixation I hear dead glue in the loudest cadences I hear where false grandeur begs validation then leaks cheap alloy on examination critic in the wrist, curator in the palate I sort proud offerings to feast and carrion one pass and the loose praise scatters mine stays lodged long after the chapter taste in the larynx, lead in the carriage whole playlists choke on comparison your big talk fogs up, mine leaves damage yours wants awe, mine gets savage you wanted flex? take rupture. take fallout. take one man making ego liturgical. mine comes plated, overfed, volcanic yours gets tagged for ritual incineration [Hook] Self-coronation gold-rimmed devastation close-read execution vile self-deification one pass from me mass disfiguration my self-love gets gilded yours meets incineration [Bridge] More. More. More. Packed contempt and exaltation. More. More. More. Pure deification. More. More. More. Mass desecration. More. More. More. veneer splits. obliteration. [Final Verse] You asked what makes me worth hearing. This. The pressure. The authorship. The body under every bar. The host in the bearing. The weight in the wording. The fact my self-love comes back enormous and hurting. one sweep through the pile and the false poise ruptures. one sweep later and the bought praise sputters. I am the after-image once the whole run finishes. rented self-images pass as mirages. The one whose overkill still sounds deliberate. The one whose vanity comes back militant. You asked why me. Wrong ask. Ask what survives once I start talking. Ask what is left once your best verse meets me. Ask why your loudest record sounds half-dead after. [Final Hook] Self-coronation gold-rimmed devastation close-read execution vile self-deification one pass from me mass disfiguration my self-love gets gilded yours meets incineration