[bad word] to the DeLorean's side seat
About to head back, put on your headphones please
Cooked up some beats I rapped on with ease
Now I'm on the roof relaxing, enjoying the summer breeze

Strider clan in the building making heads burst
Just a kid from Texas out here trying to be first
Grip and sip this apple juice to quench thirsts
Though I'm thorough in my search to create and write the perfect verse

Hands down a master of all crafts
And I'm making these [bad word] turn daft
I'm a simply suave [bad word] cutting high class
Crashing into parties bursting trolls into ash

After party, thrash hard, stay gnarly
Sorry kid but you're hardly in our league
Let 'em know I got cash, stacking Jade Harley's
Rap professor, that's Mr.Strider darling

Yo, I throw out the big guns
As a sword lord, I swing to cut cords
I'm the definition of fear for [bad word] And my style's a little Messi cause my raps are straight kickin'

Sweet and swift, though I spare no gifts
Giving critical hits and splitting up ships
For some boonbucks, I'll give you rookies a tip
Till then I'm leaving nose blood drips on your girlfriends lips