Evolve or Be Extinct

Evolving, how many days will it take to hit another level? I'm a short term wrangler, won't take long There is not another spitter that I won't take on If you lose well then get off Winners stays on, winner plays on, winner like the Malmaison I'm a winner, my vibes like a rave full of 20 thousand people don't bother puttin' hate on I don't wanna hear a thing that you wanna say wrong Silly choice, silly move, idiot things Silly me, silly you, delete your thing We're bigger than this, I'll defeat your king God knows I try calm but he goes in He's just an MC but but goes in Their style is whack like its a repro thing I'm going in, I ain't coming out I got a style and it ain't running out But my life's running out, we don't live forever However my music can live forever, whatever Tell a man chat to a badman bredda And you can't fool me but you act quite clever Sun, sea and sand well that's my weather Whether or not you like me silly, whatever I count money, I'm mature with cheddar I don't care if you're the rawest bredda On my own I'm running your estate no fair like blow I'm a tourist bredda What now then? you must have thought I was a Klein like Calvin I don't take care of chipmunks My name ain't Alvin I got a space where I'm living it's out of town housing Suck your mother I might say that If you wanna hear it again, play it back I don't peck with pickney raise that, like a dad without the Maybach (Boodoodoodoodadadada) It's Wiley again None of them better not try me again You're forgetting I'm a giant like Haystacks Battle anybody for a 8 stack I take your 8 stacks Put it my grey sack, put it on my back then I move off ASAP I am music but I'm not Arab My name's Eski, I'm sitting on the clouds where the best be, take that Shut your mouth though, cause I'm a don Don't get me wrong when I'm singing a song I go back to the war start bringing it on What, you play ball and you think you're LeBron You might spend 5 days all picking a song By then I'm on a racetrack winging along, gone I do it right and you're doing it wrong Like what type of mic are you doing it on You know half good MC's ruin a song I'm like why are they doing it wrong, that's long I'm evolving, in the free zone like Major Colvin, everybody's rolling I stack that money 'til I'm blue in the face I go fast like I flew in a race I'm on the title I kill off any rivals Nobody's really spitting on the beat Nobody's steady, they're liable Think your bad but you can't do a fireball My kind of style ain't buyable You gotta earn it, you gotta learn it Your kind of style ain't viable When it's a grime thing I'm on the track fighting Saying stuff I ain't just rhyming Better listen up clear when I'm hyping On the Rosé, not the White Lightning If a soundboys dead and he calls my name I roll up and its like I revive him, par I should have let him fade out lightly Them ever getting anywhere weren't likely Yeah I'm Wiley, you say don't like me so what I'm not a show off But when I'm about it's a road block Stop thinking of old songs, move on Go change your old top Them spitters are good but their flow's not As tight as mine I'm like an old knot They got bullied in school like an Allcot God I'm in control I'm not a Rover Here's how I evolve I can't hold off So many chatting on the cliff but they roll off Climb back up but by then I float off Inner souls can't front until it goes off My future's bright, it's orange Kush I smoke weed Not brown in a syringe I go jogging, my fam might ask for me My mum says "I ain't seen nothing of him"