[Lyric] Stan Spudowski (Satellite High)

[Intro]
APC Brakka
Patta Para Jacka
Desert Boot Clarks
Ray Ban splanga
APC Brakka
Patta Para Jacka
Desert Boot Clarks
Ray Ban splanga

[Verse 1]
Waiting for the bus in the rain... nah, run that
Little devil, snapback on my dunce cap
Willie Mayes, home-runner till you're done, cat
Bartman, dude, you're a bummer in a Cubs hat
Fuck dubstep drops, man, I got slap
Rap game Philip Glass, and you're Scott Stapp
Metaphoring, bring the kettle and the pot back
Good's subjective, but I know it's not that
Get live on the mic with props
And just hanging on the burner cuz I like it hot
Track dead, this a murder, better call the cops
Game gets bloody and it's hard to watch
J-Will taking gnarly shots
Just chewing on a glass till your barley hops
I'ma snatch Keith's liquor, smoke Marley's pot
And blow lines on a fucking iCarly spot
(i get rude)
[Hook]
Hey kids, better recognize
X-Ray's metal, got electric eyes
Got the game unsettled when I maximize
Laser-pointer spitter leaving cats surprised
Just trace on the wall like what
Draw space on the wall like what
No mistakes on the wall anyway
Kool-Aid man break through the wall like "HEEEY"

[Verse 2]
Haters do what they can to house me
Staple-gun spitting, I am Stan Spudowski
In your spot, get your man to bounce me
'Fore I rush up, make your biggest fans announce me
Wreck shop like a bull in china
Make a crowd want to move like the Forty-Niners
Open mic rappers, you're corny whiners
Dio up in Denny's, this a Holy Diner
Hold the line cuz I'm letting it go slack
Ghost unrepentant putting coal in your smokestack
Most raps unsettling, I never can go back
Gold caps of melanin, I'm dyeing my soul black
Put your dukes down, grab your pencil
Hope you test better than the crap you stencil
Make your chest shatter like a glass utensil
I was born with the skills; rap's prehensile
[Hook]
Hey kids, better recognize
X-Ray's metal, got electric eyes
Got the game unsettled when I maximize
Laser-pointer spitter leaving cats surprised
Just trace on the wall like what
Draw space on the wall like what
No mistakes on the wall anyway
Kool-Aid man break through the wall like "HEEEY"

[Verse 3]
To the letter, I'm better than competitors
Even veterans benefit from my rhetoric's impact, I'm gettin the
Credit for setting the rhyme predator styles
Without needing a proofreading editor, et cetera, while
You cats getting upset or, like, gassed up - unleaded
I said it; it's real - a step above synthetic
Prophetic force foretold of my birth; telekinetic
When I snap the mic into my hand like a prosthetic
Call a medic - I'm rolling through, you know my shit's authentic
I occupy an edit, son, I ninety-nine percent it
Listen up when I let it off, or better yet appreciate the presence
Of a better bomb ticking when you set it
Broadcast in a minute; fast-internet it
Put you on blast, a kicking-your-ass epidemic
League champ, move fast for the pennant
Light-headed when you get it again and again and again, it's...
[Outro]
Clap your hands, everybody
And everybody just clap your hands
And if you like how I say it from the front to the back
All my people, let me hear you say "yeah"