Old Wounds

Say Modena Music Modena Music (Laughing) Say it again Modena Music I got a story to tell I love you, Daddy I want, I want you to say it And I wanna hear it Go Ain't no way these niggas talking to me Let's take it way, way back I was the talk of the streets They called me dramatic cause of the way I barked on a beat Back when my pops drove the Buick with the cloth on the seats Went from getting teased for having mad asthma attacks To cats wigging out, Jonathan just spazzed in that rap In high school, looking for someone to battle through them empty halls Like ain't no one to rap against nigga, you've fucking killed them all Pen or pencil I'll violate em, now back to these rhymes No fabrication, spit lines fine as Sanaa Lathan At face value it's hard to read em like hieroglyphics Highly gifted, old and dirty like Osiris did it On fire wit it, young Jonathan with that pyro vision The eagle eye when the feeble lie in his line of vision Understand me it's not in your best interest to try to open that door Unless you willing to die for this shit Modena Music Yea, this is the reaper, the rap keeper, ugh, ugh See me on the beat, bet I spat ether, ugh, ugh Battery pack in a black Jeep In the back of the back seat Is a hatchet and two heaters, ugh Yea, think it's me causing a fucking rage They call the cops if my ink touches a fucking page Recite lyrics ignite and set my tongue ablaze Feel like I'm stuck in a cage until I touch a stage Naysayers just like to butt in and heighten up shit Burn em down with that fire and watch em tighten up quick Midas touch when I'm writing, you wanna try some dumb shit Try and get hit with an iron fist and flying jumpkick The man of methods on records, I'm on my iron lung shit I leave em gassed like a tire pump when I write for fun, bitch My competition came late to work, I'ma fire some shit In layman terms I'm a fucking murder for hire These rappers is old news, I snap like a blown fuse Beat em to submission then scrap em like old food Murder that, once I beat em I eat em like soul food After that, put em back on the burner like cold food, ugh Your rhymes wack, the culprit of rhymes back Get attacked, 30 volts in your shoulder your spine cracked Mind blacked out, thought it was over but I'm back Get hijacked Put on a show and get smoked like a dime sack, motherfucker