[Intro — low, cold, spoken] I don't need a gimmick. I need a beat with a body count. Let me talk. [Beat drops] [Verse 1] I'm lyrically lethal, the syllables surgical, Minimal mercy, when my pen is vertical Take ya top off, convertible Verbally murder you To be clear, fuck the industry, I've got Infinite energy, venomous delivery, Penmanship Killin beats, No competition in my periphery I'm sick with the syntax, a mismatch of madness, King of carnage, handing out damage. You rap for reactions, I rap like a savage Who studied the science of turning rappers to ashes. I'm calculated, calibrated, never fabricated, Elevated while these imitated styles get replicated. Every bar's a double, every couplet complicated, You need subtitles for the shit I said, then need it translated. I'm a nightmare with a nice pen, A tight ten out of ten when the mic's in. You write trends, I dissect them and slice them, Put your career on ice, then put the ice in a vice grip.[shatter sound] I'm not the one to confuse with a cute little rhyme scheme, I put a hole in the logic, then walk through the fine print. You got a big mouth, but the bars don't align, Like a motivational poster who lies with no spine. [Hook — shouted, minimal melody] NO SAFETY! I came to break the beat, not make peace! GO CRAZY! Go crazy Go Crazy Take a shot, take a puff No Safety GO crazy GO CRAZY GO CRAZY [Verse 2 — tighter pocket, faster delivery] I'm in a different division of diction, A vicious technician with intricate rhythms, The friction is fiction, the victim's a system That thinks it can limit the way that I pivot. I'm splitting the difference between being gifted And being so driven that talent is timid. I give you a minute, you're finished, I'm grinning, Then give you the second to process the sentence I buried you in with. Wait— I'm back with a bag full of black-belt tactics, Madman manners and bad intentions. Every pattern's a trap with a back-end fracture, You catch one meaning, miss three dimensions. I'm too advanced for the average analysis, Damage is permanent, panic is managing Every remaining fragment of confidence After I dismantle the grammar and challenge the panelists. I'm a walking oxymoron—peaceful? I'm not. I can kill a whole beat without touching a Glock. That's a double entendre: the pen is the weapon, And the second interpretation's the point that you missed when I dropped. I'm cold with the flow, but the delivery's feverish, Over your head, now your whole team reaching. I'm breaking the beat into pieces and leaving The pieces in places your people won't even believe in. I don't do filler, I don't do gimmicks, I don't do minimums, I go to the limit. You put in a verse, I put truth in a sentence— Then put so many damn layers in it, you need a forensic linguist. [Beat cuts — spoken] You still with me? [Verse 3 — explosive final run] I'm back in the pocket, the lock is a problem, The rhythm is rigid, I'm ripping the bottom Right out of the beat till the kick drum is coughing, The snare's in a panic, the hi-hats are plotting. I'm giving you syllables, little by little, Then doubling, tripling, flipping the rhythm. I'm switching the stress in the middle of phrases, Then landing the punch when you think that I'm finished. The pen is a pendulum, venomous, elegant, Measured and reckless, aggressive and relevant. Never repetitive, every successive Set of consecutive sentences levels the sediment. [Final Hook — full intensity] NO SAFETY! I came to break the beat, not make peace! GO CRAZY! Go crazy Go Crazy Take a shot, take a puff No Safety GO crazy GO CRAZY GO CRAZY
