| Breaker, breaker one nine, clear the line
|
| Can you read me? |
| Shortage on rhymes
|
| MCs should expect the worst
|
| I stay alert and shoot first
|
| This is not a test, it’s difficulty
|
| Picture closely, the ignorant mostly
|
| Blind, deaf, dumb, your mind left numb
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| Lost soul who failed to hear the roll of the drum
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| In the bottom of your bomb shelter, still felt the
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| Heavy blast that blew off the masks of twelve welders
|
| The math of an elder, praise the Lord, thank you Genius
|
| Operation: Project English
|
| Commander the chief of flight style, check the aircraft
|
| Glide like the Frisbee, Digi they Disney
|
| To check fault in oneself is pure loveliness
|
| You break the mirror that remind you of your ugliness
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| So when I bust, no one is untouched
|
| Some returning with the mic clutched, like such
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| Who plan but never execute. |
| He had the heat in his
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| Hand, but yo he didn’t shoot, therefore
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| Your mechanism of material better be sickly
|
| Or let your lead spread incredibly quickly
|
| I move bravely, travellin' on a horse
|
| On the battlefield, surrounded by the lost
|
| Of those who plotted with the brains of animals
|
| My high molecular structure be untangible
|
| The name ring a bell, killable two syllable
|
| The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical
|
| To be blunt, the beat was cooked up like coke goods
|
| The rhyme first came to me in the oak woods
|
| Up to no good, rap icon
|
| Milk the industry like the Wall Street junk bond
|
| You see the bright stone, I got your height sewn
|
| Direct current, that move through the mic-phone
|
| Key contributor, well-known major factor
|
| Rhyme distributor, the drive of a tractor
|
| Who run ya down if you don’t move or wanna linger
|
| Linger, linger, linger, linger
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine, clear the line
|
| Can you read me? |
| Shortage on rhymes
|
| MCs should expect the worst
|
| I stay alert and shoot first
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine, clear the line
|
| Can you read me? |
| Shortage on rhymes
|
| MCs should expect the worst
|
| I stay alert and shoot first
|
| The immortality of my fame is the measure of other’s torture
|
| Burnt offer, from a flamin' author
|
| The falconer who flies enough birds for the chase
|
| Strictly excel in what is excellence with grace
|
| The significance was not the vulgar applause of interest
|
| But the feelin' that exit, completion of a sentence
|
| With age and experience, my reason ripens
|
| I strike on you Vikings, slash like a hyphen
|
| If you enter the house of fortune by the gate of pleasure
|
| You will leave by sorrow, the flow measures
|
| Everything fails with the unfortunate
|
| Learned that recordin' it, so my mind broaden it
|
| Track records ranks us with the exceptional
|
| Extreme complex physics, high technical
|
| The truth is usually seen and rarely heard
|
| What’s more dangerous than hatred is the word
|
| You wild cards, jack of all trades
|
| Those who parade their positions show their spades
|
| A large flock of MCs, they figure to be taught
|
| It ain’t hard to see why I’m vigorously sought
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine, clear the line
|
| Can you read me? |
| Shortage on rhymes
|
| MCs should expect the worst
|
| I stay alert and shoot first
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine, clear the line
|
| Can you read me? |
| Shortage on rhymes
|
| MCs should expect the worst
|
| I stay alert and shoot first
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine
|
| Breaker, breaker one nine |