Letra de ' Congratulations, You Lose (feat. Oh No) ' de The Alchemist

Yeah, yeah
Check me out
Let me see what I got here

Dick in my duffle, got plenty style
Put this whole shit on my back and walk many miles
Play sudoku on your face with a razor and spill the ketchup out
The only way I know how to send a message out
Slingin foot in my Bally shoe and you stretched it out
Beloved, that's a bad fit
Chewin a matchstick, I’ll spike the punch and send you on a bad trip
That’s not a microdose, when it’s time for me to recite, I hold a microphone
Close to my throat right here, draped in a robe
Like Isaac Hayes when he was Black Moses
Flickin ashes, smokin opposition packages in a massive dosage
I floated here on a magic carpet
Say my name on a record makes you an automatic target
Now I gotta take out the garbage, just gettin started
Now it's time to make my impression felt
Gettin fat, need to add a notch on my Versace leather belt
Won’t give a fuck, I let my nuts hang
Then fly low like a dust plane, bustdowns dangle out the Mustang
Use a shirt to wipe off the rust stain then continue busting
Speed in the foreign, Neosporin to make the cuts sting

Hahaha
You’re already ugly, you’re already ugly
Ohh-ho-ha, son
Don’t get me started, you bitch

Yeah, the flood ain’t fair, ain’t no animals safe here
The archer park, you dead in the water, your archers stay there
That beast that you thought that was in you, I see it been dead
You can’t awake it, the cousin is sleep, the stone like a big head
Cruise through the ruins, the attitude is "fuck what you doin"
I could mousetrap, I'm stupid tryin to get a shoe in
Cause there’s no vacancy for y'all to move in
Y’all know the motto, keep it movin over shoulder movement
Oleksandr Usyk so we slappin new shit
Goin past abuses, beat down the eardrums and no exclusives
Checkin for your acoustics
Sound like a rocket from the T-minus lift up
When the high comes down, I use your beard like a fuckin Swiffer
Now you the made man, I let you clean the scene
Not a barber but I’ll give you them fades, nah'mean?
The mad doctor is the occupation
I pull the ribs out of the chest improper like a game of Operation
We made coaches out of samples from the surgery
Don’t make me deactivate all your circuitry
I don’t work for you nigga, you work for me

Shut up, you ugly motherfucker
Don’t get me started, bitch
Cause I'm not going for your stomach, I'm going for your face
You better hope you don’t get [?]