FCFS Letra

Run the gauntlet, r-r-r-run the gauntlet


(Verse 1)

Motherfuckers keep ridin' the pine,

I'm positioned in prime;

A gift ripping militia, fitting fissure, fishing for swine.

This fervor of mine will make me murder your kind.

With alignment unwinded, I lurk, you're yearning to die.

I open my skin, and I bleed on a sheet.

While you leaked grease from your ass crease all over a beat.

I'm a tattooed dude, white in a wife beater.

People bumpin' my shit, before rappin' in a theater.

Wreck in every sector when my feet first set,

Rivals become house pets, beggin' for respect.

Choked to death with a mic' chord at your own show,

Jump into stands, hand my album to the front row (Take it).

Derby/Shelton bridge kids have no leverage,

My skill? Measure it, better than your feathered shit.

Bridgeport rappers should be chained in a chamber. (You all suck)

I topple these lame fake doppelganger gangsters.

Does my skin color make you feel awkward?

If you want beef, get on knees, suck my bratwurst.

I don't give a fuck about your hood or roots,

Doesn't change the fact that I'm a better rapper than you.

In the fury of music,

Straight-boss with my larynx.

Everybody keeps waitin' for a loss of my bearings.

I'm a sinister cynic,

Unlimited, livid when rhythmic,

You're an inhibited mimic needing a clinic,

Dim gimmick.



(Chorus)

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

It takes a champ to know one.

Which are none of you, it's what no, not one of you be,

So just answer to me

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

This is my chance to stand up

Each one of you is dumb, overrun on the scene.

So just answer to me.



(Verse 2)

What does it prove, to use YouTube,

All anonymous, leaving comments,

Rotting on my moves? (Pussy)

It does nothing, you won't get through to me.

My smooth ingenuity is truth like nudity.

I'm biased, my jeremiads are riots on their own.

Vocally-sown facts, darts thrown onto microphones.

You know you don't make me flinch, bitches.

Loose from Rooster, I'm usin' slews of huge pinches. (Fat lippers)

A need for my name in bright lights, neon .

Each kiosk of emcees breeds peons to pee on.

Just hope I don't perform more and form tours,

Liquored-up whores, inter-course on the dance-floor.

Bring Cortizone when you leave home.

Smashin' in your dome like Francis “Mickey” Featherstone.

Stick my flyers in air vents of your tenement.

Then take a shit in your fitted cap to be a gentleman.



(Chorus)

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

It takes a champ to know one.

Which are none of you, it's what no, not one of you be,

So just answer to me

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

This is my chance to stand up

Each one of you is dumb, overrun on the scene.

So just answer to me.



(Verse 3)

When armed with a pen, I charm without end,

Spark art for your heart and all of your friends. (I love him!)

Youngs and Lils rep' their citadels.

You love hos and money? How original. (You fucking suck, quit rapping)

Any gig you get, I'm not impressed,

Publicity? yes, yet, I'm best, no contest.

Local rappers wanna' meet and battle me. (All for war!)

I attack and rack up the stack of wack causalities (Faggots!)

Wind of opinions begin.

Can't grasp the fact I'm a rapper from Huntington (Haha, haters)

Assholes, you think I'm a poser?

I bolster, a boulder, you people are ulcers. (I am being me!)

My biggest love is the 27 Club,

I'm proud to blow my brains out when the day comes.

For my legacy, it's a crucial pursuit.

So, I win, you lose, it's done. Fuck you!



(Chorus)

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

It takes a champ to know one.

Which are none of you, it's what no, not one of you be,

So just answer to me

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

This is my chance to stand up

Each one of you is dumb, overrun on the scene.

So just answer to me.



This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

It takes a champ to know one.

Which are none of you, it's what no, not one of you be,

So just answer to me

This is the F.C.F.S. (done)

This is my chance to stand up

Each one of you is dumb, overrun on the scene.

So just answer to me.



Run the gauntlet, r-r-r-run the gauntlet,

Run the gauntlet, r-r-r-run the gauntlet



(Outro)

Master of Xtremity,

All Else Fails,

Can't beat that.

East Coast.

Fairfield County Fight Song.