| I’m gunnin', ya runnin away, do not stay
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| Cuz the wrath of the gift will be hittin' ya spliff
|
| And a lot of the crews got sprayed and yelled, «Raid!», as struggle approaches
|
| A brother’ll flow this
|
| Another ferocious jam, I smother the? |
| grossagran?
|
| I hover above the land of lame emcees that dont blow
|
| I’m poppin' the clip and then bo bo with the gun
|
| And a once in a munch chest, rest in peace
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| In the bellly of the beast I abolish emcees with sounds like these
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| Run over enemies and I rest in the west
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| Dark hemisphere, burn with a fear is nothing but a mere setback
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| Hear when I’m here
|
| Earn wit a clear conscience in the middle of the jet black
|
| I’m a dog, running through the jungle
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| Wit a hoodie and black hat choppin down MCs
|
| Not a frog, cunning yet I’m humble
|
| Gotta do the jewels tack wack talkin clowns
|
| Tip me, I’mma knock 'em all around, bust a front
|
| With a fat blunt swinging on a vine in the homeland
|
| I’m attack 'em in the sound little punks when the rap bump
|
| Springing on the rhyme I bowl man
|
| Gifted when I’m lifted off a spliff hit
|
| Reminisce shit, riff with dipshits
|
| This shit is the mischievous style of the gifted
|
| I’m a whiz kid, get a whiff kid
|
| Swingin' down low, breakin' down flows
|
| With a new flow mentally outgrow when you step back
|
| To the black with a fat rap with a fat sack
|
| With a little bit a funk in my napsack
|
| Take it back to the brother land
|
| And I was smotherin' stupid idiots like Tarzan
|
| Givin' back to the brother man and get another land
|
| Man gimme it, its Or-land-o
|
| Calrisian tight wishin' into the depths
|
| Up in the sound in the heart of the jungle
|
| Gettin' wild with the art of the rumble
|
| Never amount to be smarter than Dumbo
|
| Make 'em mumble, make 'em humble
|
| Get me round from the start, you will crumble
|
| And you tumble, and you stumble
|
| And I do it like that
|
| From the end to the other end never gonna end
|
| Set a trend with the maniac mic clutch
|
| Hey? |
| bob by the ba?, said you keep your day job
|
| My competitors never know the right touch
|
| Have to bail through the backstreets, raisin' hell to a black beat
|
| Rappers fail to attack me, like a sail with the slack g
|
| I attack 'em like acne, exactly UGH
|
| (spoken)
|
| Mindless cretins grow through idiosynchrosy
|
| Peels up, rising up, down
|
| (Lateef)
|
| Steppin' up through the deep, dank murkiness
|
| No telling what is lurking
|
| I hero it, but will I sense a jerkin
|
| I proceed to bust a buster
|
| Cuz I trust the finer design in the mind of the rhyme
|
| Just about impossible to find
|
| What a disgrace to the race of wack mc’s
|
| I am because I choose to stand my ground
|
| FIRM and blowin' the rhythm the vermin and learnin'
|
| All I know is we’ve earned every entry attained
|
| And strained the game, and what I’m tryin' to explain is that
|
| The deeper we’re creepin' the more we find sleepin'
|
| And slippin' just shootin' dead lips on a mission
|
| Its missin' the reason the gift we’ve been given the rhythm
|
| Cuz that just the way we’ve been livin
|
| And thrive in the essence, survive and its easy
|
| To recognize when analyzing? |
| the bo?
|
| Surprises the lame in this line and tryin'
|
| To get you to buy into their fantasy world
|
| Can it be damaged the? |
| emina? |
| bones
|
| Of the fellas and men thats exploting my culture
|
| Can’t understand every breast that you touch
|
| Was as up? |
| paper scun? |
| be one hung motherfucker
|
| Such as nowadays, its fallin' and splinterin', just timber, instead of
|
| Gettin out of my way, and what I’m -- meaning to say is that
|
| The canopy that covers me now is the blackest, attack this
|
| I thought we already established the wackness
|
| Presented in the cemented jungle
|
| By the bumblin' brothers stumblin' tumblin' down
|
| Surround me in a cannibalistic style, but I just smile and
|
| Silence 'em like the lambs, they all the whole flock
|
| We just one magic stock style
|
| I’m gettin' 'em off like crack viles, and wicked the whole fuckin while
|
| Not trippin over no vines, or over no swine, or over no mines
|
| Or over no line at the plot
|
| Thinkin' of whippin' 'em like a Glock in the jungle
|
| (spoken)
|
| Now in the beginning of the journey
|
| Not in time, but in the mind
|
| Imagine the camels being loaded up
|
| The men, loading themselves up |
| It’s a long journey -- the oasis is all in the clamor
|
| As we start from the top we go to the very bottom
|
| Of a myserious place -- a very mysterious place
|
| What’s that I see? |
| Ahhhh
|
| (Lyrics Born)
|
| I can’t even describe you, so I ain’t even gon' try… hmmmm
|
| Making hell of mc Asia is now this I dont dispute but you knew
|
| You knew Lyrics Born was a ripped off note sheet of a hundred
|
| And you scrape the paint off your bumpers making sure you beat the buzzer
|
| Making sure Lyrics Born came out his mother’s stomach
|
| Covered with the lyrics that kill
|
| No bumper, right? |
| Cuz mo’fucka
|
| I know you can make colors rhyme
|
| And have the whole goddamn planet yellin uncle at you and even
|
| Still take the time big up little? |
| egg?, can you imagine?
|
| Big up Asia Born, this little bottle
|
| Or that you would even be lightly concerned with little, little words
|
| That you would tug at the line, pullin' the kind
|
| Of lyrics out my mouth that make me big bad don, takin' kids' legs home
|
| You can’t even back a sliver roach, you know
|
| That type shit, and then watch me wreck this stage
|
| Boy like I got your daddy’s style hangin' around my waist
|
| And then watch me forget -- the way
|
| Good lyrics taste, thinkin' I just ain’t little rabbit eyes in your heart
|
| Man, cuz if I thought it was just
|
| Lyrics Born that made lyrics born, lyrics born
|
| And then suddenly I can’t do no more, I’d be like
|
| «Do you remember me?» |
| No, Asia
|
| And you used to play my record on the way to the vapor |