the styles gettin' old, we need an empirical solution
i never lie when i recognize ancient, im the typical evolution
ape to man, im a trendsetter in this game, the lyrical revolution
got a cat callin' himself vintage, coppin styles and throwin' clones
identity is supposed to be original, im vintage like the rolling stones
not taking your name kiddo, just had to throw some shit on little pages
kiddo ain’t impressive,he’s vintage only 'cause his raps are Middle Ages
im tellin you..im the revolution that broke your flow and started upheaval
you know how styles replace one another kid, your flow was just medieval
claiming you’re at your prime? but primes arent divisible uncleaned
im the x factor in this game, so im the factor thats invisible, unseen
im on the DL, down low on the spot, down low with the drops, high with artillery
place a missile in your lines, cause some tension which elevates to hostility
you feelin' me? only time kid is impressive if we talk about impression
his flow goin back to vintage like the american economy jumpin to recession
kiddo talkin about hauntin other people’s dreams, i got a question
im lyrically untouched by an ancient’s voice, liar..how bout goin to confession
priest at the booth doesnt wanna hear your sins, whoops i guess no blessin'
so i guess its a conlusion that you live in delusional illusion, no second guessin'
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