🧨 Page 2 – Bloodlines Built to Rule

[Verse 1] Yo, I ain't perfect — misspell shit, miss a name, But I still burn they kingdom the fuck down in flame. Ain’t got no staff, no ghostwrite checks, Just rage in my gut and the truth on deck. Motherfuckers pour millions on stupid-ass plans, While I scrape for quarters to photocopy scans. No budget, no crew, no Hollywood flair — Still peeled the masks off the snakes out there. Spent years bleedin' this blueprint out, While y’all got rocked by the puppet’s shout. They got you grinnin’ at green lights and fake fights, While they dagger your kids in the dead of night. I wrote this for the ones that can stand real scars, For the ones that can stomach the blood on the bars. I built this shit — page after page, While they built your cage — stage by stage. [Hook – Barked raw, vicious energy] Bloodlines blessed by the fuckin' beast, Families feedin’ on human meat. Raise your hands — they already tagged ya, Praise your kings — they already bagged ya. [Verse 2] History ain’t dead — they rewrote that bitch, Cradle to grave in a brainwashed glitch. Control the past, you chain the now, And you motherfuckers still wonder how? Kings and priests, demons in wigs, Carvin’ your mind with blood-soaked gigs. Torture, magic, politics, cash, Twistin’ your soul like a fuckin' lash. And I ain't guessin’, I seen the receipts, Paper trails burnin’ under my feet. Thousands of nights, bloodshot dreams, Reading, praying, tearing at the seams. Collapsed on books with a fistful of rage, While they crowned new serpents page by page. Miller, Hislop, scholars that screamed, We all saw the cracks in the devil’s dream. [Bridge – Slow, murderous tone] Satan flipped twelve tribes to twelve bloodlines, Painted ‘em pretty, but the dirt still shines. Judas breed walkin’ through history’s veins, Leakin’ their rot in royal chains. [Verse 3 – Final assault] Egypt, Canaan, Druid, Dan, Seeded the fuckin' earth with a devil’s plan. Astor blood rides the river's bend, Cain’s breath still in the gusts of men. Babylon's ghost in the cracks of time, Nimrod’s curse in the spine of crime. They hide in your churches, they hide in your books, While you pat the preacher and never look. Publishing? Bought. Schools? Bought. Your heroes? Bought. Your battles? Fought — For the same motherfuckers pullin' the chain, While you die for crumbs they piss from planes. Mystery schools still teach the same rites, Only now they tweet that shit at night. [Outro – Glitchy, deadpan voice] You ain’t educated. You been initiated.