Evolve or Be Extinct

Evolving, how many days will it take to hit another level?
 I'm a short term wrangler, won't take long
 There is not another spitter that I won't take on
 If you lose well then get off
 Winners stays on, winner plays on, winner like the Malmaison
 I'm a winner, my vibes like a rave full of 20 thousand people don't bother puttin' hate on
 I don't wanna hear a thing that you wanna say wrong
 Silly choice, silly move, idiot things
 Silly me, silly you, delete your thing
 We're bigger than this, I'll defeat your king
 God knows I try calm but he goes in
 He's just an MC but but goes in
 Their style is whack like its a repro thing
 I'm going in, I ain't coming out
 I got a style and it ain't running out
 But my life's running out, we don't live forever
 However my music can live forever, whatever
 Tell a man chat to a badman bredda
 And you can't fool me but you act quite clever
 Sun, sea and sand well that's my weather
 Whether or not you like me silly, whatever
 I count money, I'm mature with cheddar
 I don't care if you're the rawest bredda
 On my own I'm running your estate no fair like blow I'm a tourist bredda
 What now then? you must have thought I was a Klein like Calvin
 I don't take care of chipmunks My name ain't Alvin
 I got a space where I'm living it's out of town housing
 Suck your mother I might say that
 If you wanna hear it again, play it back
 I don't peck with pickney raise that, like a dad without the Maybach
 (Boodoodoodoodadadada)
 It's Wiley again
 None of them better not try me again
 You're forgetting I'm a giant like Haystacks
 Battle anybody for a 8 stack
 I take your 8 stacks
 Put it my grey sack, put it on my back then I move off ASAP
 I am music but I'm not Arab
 My name's Eski, I'm sitting on the clouds where the best be, take that
 Shut your mouth though, cause I'm a don
 Don't get me wrong when I'm singing a song
 I go back to the war start bringing it on
 What, you play ball and you think you're LeBron
 You might spend 5 days all picking a song
 By then I'm on a racetrack winging along, gone
 I do it right and you're doing it wrong
 Like what type of mic are you doing it on
 You know half good MC's ruin a song
 I'm like why are they doing it wrong, that's long
 I'm evolving, in the free zone like Major Colvin, everybody's rolling
 I stack that money 'til I'm blue in the face
 I go fast like I flew in a race
 I'm on the title I kill off any rivals
 Nobody's really spitting on the beat
 Nobody's steady, they're liable
 Think your bad but you can't do a fireball
 My kind of style ain't buyable
 You gotta earn it, you gotta learn it
 Your kind of style ain't viable
 When it's a grime thing
 I'm on the track fighting
 Saying stuff I ain't just rhyming
 Better listen up clear when I'm hyping
 On the Rosé, not the White Lightning
 If a soundboys dead and he calls my name
 I roll up and its like I revive him, par
 I should have let him fade out lightly
 Them ever getting anywhere weren't likely
 Yeah I'm Wiley, you say don't like me so what
 I'm not a show off
 But when I'm about it's a road block
 Stop thinking of old songs, move on
 Go change your old top
 Them spitters are good but their flow's not
 As tight as mine I'm like an old knot
 They got bullied in school like an Allcot
 God I'm in control I'm not a Rover
 Here's how I evolve I can't hold off
 So many chatting on the cliff but they roll off
 Climb back up but by then I float off
 Inner souls can't front until it goes off
 My future's bright, it's orange
 Kush I smoke weed
 Not brown in a syringe
 I go jogging, my fam might ask for me
 My mum says "I ain't seen nothing of him"