Lyrics Line of Fire - Domingo, M.C. Shan, FT

Line of Fire

I am a jealous rap god for sure, have no other rap gods before me
Kneel to these MC’s and they corny
Be on thee alert, I practice
After I smirk I do work, MC’s lack this, they chase skirts
All day and all night I write
Touch up your mic and make the body feel alright
MC’s bite and incorrect recite
What I say on the radio late night
But their lyrical structure ain’t shaped right
They don’t speak right
BAM!
Sleep tight
I continue yearly, to speak clearly
Professors with PhD’s degrees sincerely fear me
Because I merely speak articulate
Expressing the present philosophy and shit
I captivate the audience
And oh Lord it gets
After that pure raunchiness
But let’s get on with this, session
Fast
I get Ill like Al when I Skratch that ass
I’m the past, the present, the future
You’se a loser cause these bitch MC’s is what ya used to
I’ll do ya, no I’m doing ya, pursuing ya, putting two in ya
Booyaka, booyaka
MC’s mentalities freeze when I breathe energy
High degrees, in rhythmic philosophies
I master flows so I can flip it up in any point and simply click
There’s only one way to describe my persona and that’s «simply sick»
That’s off the wall, push the meter to the meat racks
You kinda get this feeling I’m not dealing with a complete stack
Of cards and the odds is like a 20 to 1 shot
And each verse that I burst is like the blast from a gunshot
And when I storm son I hail down fire rains screaming out in dire pain
Chase Freddy’s ass down Michael Meyer’s lane
The world is living shiesty and I don’t know who to trust
I’ll blaze your crew to dust and ain’t a damn thing you can do to us
Listen to the legendary’s quote it gets addictive
Hip hop is not a disease it’s just something that I’m sick with
Ayo I’m verbally vicious, you nervously suspicious
And niggas never talk to me straight, always curving your pitches
Call me Urban Religious, life is learning the difference
I’m on the fifth floor with burgundy slippers observing you bitches
Murdering snitches is not a new thing, we move things
Bacardi and Smoke, hardly provoke, is how we do things
I never sell out sisters like slave traders sold brothers
If you bought one of the Godsons hits, you a
Respect my rhyme
Like I respect tittyless chicks with chest like mine
I live right next to crime
You not the foulest nigga but you neck and neck with swine
Smoking cess with dimes knowing we gonna be the next to shine
Even as the sperm cell of daddy’s scrotum my niggas knew I’d be iller
When my tail knock down The Empire State Building like Godzilla
My thoughts are God killer, giving track
Ras Kass
Remember how I dismember your members fo' rella?
Sucka, you couldn’t get me back if you was directly behind me
Or standing on my spine wearing low jack, B
The Articulate Thug, articulate 38 slugs
So niggas better Duck like Donald and Daffy
I live life like a dyke so fuck y’all niggas
Fuck them three mics in The Source
My force is to be reckoned with
My mental mechanism is this
Eight feet tall, squeezing my balls
I’ll break your backboard while sporting TWISM
Domingo put me on so naturally I comes off
Eyes China, chocolate skinned bitches think I’m Dominicona
(So take that, take that)
Cause Babe Ruth hated blacks
I’m off to Hell and beat that devil with Sammy Sosa’s bat
Ya heard?
Captain.
The target’s been located.
Lock on the microphone.
Microphone’s locked
on.
They’re in the line of fire
Yo, a lot of real niggas died but I survived mad shit
Hustling on the strip eating fried crab sticks
I’m a live bastard
Your hood I drive past it
Shawty thought my dick was small I surprised that bitch
I love myself, I wanna hug myself
But how can I judge you when I’m a thug myself?
Nobody put a nigga on, I had to plug myself
Stole whips, bust slugs, touched drugs as well
No drinks at the bar is a disgrace
I run with a bunch of ugly niggas that got scars on they face
And fire arms on they waist
Make it 'Nam in this place
If you say, «F ain’t the bomb» then you’re
I hold it down like gravity
On grounds of strategy I crown the casualty
Survive the agony, slide before the fives try bagging me
My capacity is a glossary of atrocity as a prophecy
I’ll be damned if niggas cram to understand Bam’s animosity
I’ll surface with a purpose, disperse verses of revelation
Lurk the Earth without getting murked in this diverse thirst and desperation
I write agitated trife, affidavits of life
Despite aggravated, stagnated, infatuated with mics
But doe I unfold untold chapters I’m molding rappers
My stature rapture beat niggas in the head until they skull fracture
Now who’s doing the damaging when rambling?
Bam' the vandal and scandalling, live gambling
Survive by scrambling