| The echo chamber enhance the flow wit the block party
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| Keep an MC head spinning like Dark Bacardi
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| This B.A.C. |
| is 2.3
|
| Now the liver’s damaged, but his lungs are joint free
|
| So inhale, exhale, breathe and get well
|
| Kick something live stop chirping like Nextel
|
| I’m All In Together, a swordsman forever
|
| I paint the town red, with many heads are severed
|
| R-A-W, I still bring trouble to Throw your raps in the sleephold, quick to snuggle you
|
| Dart heat your breastplate, meet ya death date
|
| Rook down a E4, look, it’s checkmate
|
| No other way to describe a catastrophe
|
| The plan was drawing blood and displayed it graphically
|
| Direct order, hit the border, then slaughter
|
| Horrific torture, by prolific authors
|
| Shape and mold MC’s, like I’m playing the skelly top
|
| It’s getting 'hot in here’like the single that Nelly dropped
|
| So take ya clothes off, the track is so soft
|
| A little rock’ll turn 'em into Ivan Koloff
|
| Why do the Gods make MC’s study from
|
| Thirty five, and fifty year, then try to become
|
| Under the study with the sword above the head
|
| So he would keep in mind under the open pledge
|
| Fierce glisten, something so sharp
|
| Piercing, swords cling, the vigilante intimate
|
| Close combat, this is MC’ing at it’s best
|
| But there is no contest, sent I’m this
|
| Speaking of a test, this and try to question this
|
| He so different with the swiftness, godfather civilization
|
| Shell casing, universal nation
|
| Could he be the one predicted, presidential sent in Old school soul to war us, be the growlest
|
| Asiatic artic flow is so frigid
|
| Is it, the Zig Zag, I’mma pay you a visit
|
| Somehow mistake me as an old wise wizard
|
| World, I’m not the same
|
| I go somewhere, don’t remember how I came
|
| Is it the weed, the hash or the 'caine?
|
| Or the Digi being stained on my brain
|
| Appear from a cloud of smoke, the voter’s on choke
|
| If surrounded, seven men drop from one scope
|
| Even if my feet was shackled down to one handcuff
|
| To defeat me, ten beno’s wouldn’t be enough
|
| I sleep in the lion’s den, without the steel iron
|
| Ascended like Wu, so coming down from Mt. Zion
|
| Superlogical this, superlogical that
|
| Digital, take it back with superlogical rap
|
| Have a shootout, at midnight, the sequel’s quicker
|
| Forty four colt jolt, all you seen was the flicker
|
| You distressed like the damsal, lost like little rascal
|
| A flame couldn’t generate the heat of a candle
|
| Me, I be a Killa Bee, keeping exilery
|
| Ol’play the desert e, shoot ten millime'
|
| Master the millipede, you try to end the sea
|
| Your body being found in the neighbor yard artillery
|
| A black blind governor, a rich white mayor
|
| Man, this whole city ain’t got a prayer
|
| Bobby has invaded, now the whole town’s slated
|
| Your decapitated head is being took and operated
|
| Up and down the avenue, I drive a shatterproof
|
| Benz, and all my men’s are tattle proof
|
| My mic is a dyke, my life is a light
|
| A Day to God is a Thousand Years, how long is a night?
|
| You get trapped in my shadow of dark, ark, who goes there?
|
| Power-U smells like carp, don’t put your nose there
|
| Drop you to a tank of sharks, your wound’s bleeding
|
| And it’s been two weeks since they had their last feeding
|
| Ain’t nothing but bones, we plotted the sand
|
| And spread it out, over 20 acres of land
|
| Some call me Steels, cuz it’s hard to bend me C-Cypher Pigs, can’t apprehend me In a no smoking zone, I smoke bones of hash
|
| Niggas see me, then I disappear in the flash
|
| Next time I’m spotted, I got the fatter wallet
|
| Moving with a click that stick like dry porrage
|
| Someone’s been sitting in my chair, who goes there?
|
| To sub zero cold, your words can’t flow here
|
| Glaciers of ice, plus layers of spice
|
| Say your prayers at night, 'fore you touch that mic |