Keep your hands up. Tuck your chin. Y'all niggas look sloppy out here. Strict Timing on another one. Styles spilling 70 different ways, 70 different blades. [Drop] [Rap Verse 1: Male aggressive raspy baritone, militant flow, monotone dry rap, NO MELODY] The vision is clear as day, crushing diamonds in the light, 70 Sharp Swords stepping out, controlling the night. Every word Strict Timing speaks is calculated and cold, I told 'em skip the basic model, bring the flagship to hold. Ain't no sugar in my talk, you can't wrap this up sweet, We strip away the fake glitter, bringing raw truth to the street. The story plays out like a movie, cruising through the zone, Immaculate fundamentals, 70 Sharp Swords on the throne. Hand speed is blinding, that's how we drop the bomb, And if the hands don't work, we pull out the firearm. You won't catch me throwing wild punches like a rookie in a panic, Strict Timing tears your clothes off, moving smooth and organic. These rappers act like they the boss, writing fake quotes, I'm at the lot like, Maybach or M-Class? We buying both. Twin turbos on the engine, automatic on the hip, Never lonely with the steel, ready to sink your whole ship. [Aggressive Steady Cadence Continues] Only the real plug got my number, fake friends get the boot, Looking like cheap deli meat while we stacking up the loot. Your style spilling like bad liquor on the passenger seat, 'Cause you lack the real mechanics to survive in the street. I'm teaching heavy block lessons from dusk until the dawn,
