The Alchemist, Fashawn, Roc C , Oh No - From the Creation lyrics

Look in the mirror: are you
A reflection or an image?
A person or a persona
Real thing or a gimmick?
I hate when rappers get on
The mic and act timid
They must have never came in
Contact with a menace
In the lab with the ‘Chemist
Loading up ammunition
In my path for the listeners, fans
And the critics niggas out getting it
Trying to advance to a million
And trying to their fam in positions
Where they ain’t gotta rap
Shoot hoops or pitch grams for a living
10 G’s to a hundred grand, keep it consistent
The exact definition of a man on a mission
To take over the land, expand demolition
Wonder how many syllables I can
Cram in this sentence?
Like a general I command your attention
I be killing ‘em, every stanza is venom
In my B-boy stance
Can’t help but glance at a nigga

So in the summer I’m getting dumber
Doing my digit's, doing my numbers
Rappers are similar, six are 1
Half-a dozen are the other
I’m custom cut control
Rock a windsuit and some Timberlands
Touch the floor and guard my space
‘til they carve my face
In the side of a mountain like Rushmore
I’m prophetic, doctor the drums with a medic
Could end up like I’m fresher
Than lettuce and get shredded i’m ready, yo
I’ll stand next to the
Sprinkler without getting wetted
Don’t step in my circle, no doubt, get deaded
Serve ‘em no cut like video
Footage without the edit emperor, thinking
"What the fuck I need a pencil for?"
When I could scrape the
Corners without a Desert?"
I’m a criminal into vandalism
Whoever want attention
Stomp ‘em out and whoever’s standing with ‘em

I’m the line-deliverer, used to be sinister
Six shots in the Glock, pop at your Senator
Tend to be nice, put a price on my own life
Then I thought about: better
Off killing myself
I’m the, rhyme ratcher, gun packer
I’ll bitch smack a nigga up then laugh after
Cold cash or back to dirty braids
Back to crime pays
Back on my parkay, buddy or entrée
I’m the Bombay, general strikes
John Forté, moonwalk in on the court date
The boy’s late
Puff puff pass to another date
Clock stopped tickin’ now
Guess that’s my fate hold weight
Fornicator skate out the front door
Been smoking so long
I know I’ll never overdose
Still petrol, me, I’m not
Tie ‘em up, leave a note at your spot
Like we need that

In the symphony, orchestrated
Of course they hate it
The forces foreign, dangerous flow
Painting a picture
Off rhythmic movement, move with music
Moods is muses, dumbfound stupid nuisance
New shit
Hang ‘em like nooses ‘til their brain part
Their nucleus
I’m nuke ‘em and show ‘em we do this
Got no, foolish focus, I pray for my foes
Folks posted unnoticed
Near when the twin’s bolstered
I get toasted and toasted bottles of Moet
Then pour it out for my old set
Gangrene, that’s a threat on the globe
Verbal tech, technicians
Herbal vet load the ammunition
Made them kill the ambition
With this man’s wisdom
Then gas and match in the brain
More enlighten ‘em
Pay attention or played attention
Y’all lame, y’all rather play
In the Pain Olympics, uh