Right Here

I'd like to thank ya'll
 For this opportunity to drop the jewellery
 And get this shit poppin' musically
 Feels like I'm locked in hells gate and god's my cell-mate
 Sayin' plot this jail-break, pop the cops who tailgate
 You sealed your fate prying inside my business
 To find a mind as scientific as Mayan hieroglyphics
 As god's my witness, I'll spit viral sickness
 Like bible scripted black plague in the last day's final minutes
 On a primal vicious grind, till my vinyl shipments climb
 Through the great vine and be defined as vintage wine
 Sky's the limit? Fine, I'm in your atmosphere
 To racketeer the sky and to fall it on your rap career
 And I ain't stackin' near the millions I'm worth
 Coz' sayin' somethin' ill in a verse and havin' skills are a curse
 But still, I got a feelin' that this villain at work'll be
 More chillin' than still born children at birth
 I'm the king; my underlings are building my church
 And when your mom close her eyes to pray I'm stealing her purse
 Now, god willing I become the illest on Earth
 Where love is hate so I just pray your feelings get hurt
 My life is tragic, so it's only right I write the madness
 Like being psychopathic's my right of passage
 And don't care what the price of gas is
 I'll splash it on you while I'm lighting matches
 And put out the flames with nitric acid
 Spiteful bastard, I'm back with a vengeance
 A fifth of Jack and a Mac-11 to capture the essence
 I'm just an artist gettin' closer to the edge
 So when I go over know I put my soul in what I said
 For real, Bolic ain't focused on the bread
 I had enough of that, so if you with me where the fuck you at?
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Fuck your gun fights, all I need is one mic and crowd-time
 And I could outshine the sunlight on cloud nine
 For now I'm climbin' uphill and grindin'
 Till I chill reclining on a diamond studded silver lining
 Feel this priming, but those sceptics don't get it
 Most said I dig my own grave, I'm too poetic
 Stressed like Po said, let's organise confusion
 I'm just a microphone fiend, always high
 Using the rush, intoxicated me and fortified the movement
 And plus I get to slaughter guys all for my amusement
 Drawn my conclusion, don't need a label budget
 So I'm sayin' "fuck it", like I'm way above it, you can hate or love it
 Raised in Suffolk, fighting like I'm Razor Ruddock
 Without a pot to piss in; urinate in public
 In the home of Rakim, Eric Sermon, R.A. The Rugged
 Diabolic's dancing with the devil angel dusted
 Bring the ruckus; let's rumble in the slums
 So I can punch you in the ribs till there punchering your lungs
 I'm just wondering, how the fuck you doubling your funds
 By lieing about scratching off the numbers on the gun
 Coz', the muthafuckas where I'm from feel inside
 That even though Dilla died, hip-hop is still alive
 And it will survive the fake thugs talkin' tough
 When I click the nine to get a dial tone and call your bluff.
 I'm just an artist gettin' closer to the edge
 So when I go over know I put my soul in what I said
 For real, Bolic ain't focused on the bread
 I had enough of that, so if you with me where the fuck you at?
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here
 Where the fuck you at? We right here