Lyrics Forevershine (Radio) - PackFM

Forevershine (Radio)

Yeah!
PackFM!
It’s Qn5!
The Plague!
Kno, you laced it!
Oh!
I’ll shine («PackFM» scratched*)
Forever!
I’m back and it’s on, the man you always askin' em for
Now you relieved, like you was scratchin' your back wit a fork
We argue who’s gonna son you, like your parents divorce
I’m off the radar, you the cartoon in the back of the Source
«It's no fair, Pack’s a vet, I never battle before»
That’s no excuse, shut up, bitch — you just mad 'cuz you lost
Don’t ever sit in a room with your back to the door
You could get shot through the peephole, I seen it happen before
Ain’t nuthin' new to me, I school MCs
But they viewin me
They in the back of the class and their glasses is off
You the reason the underground is in the back of the store
My name on a CD means it’s dope before the plastic is off
I could’ve freestyled this verse, but I’m sick wit the written
You ain’t spittin', you grab the microphone, you hack and you cough
MC’s thinkin' that they GI’s wit fatigues instead of Levi’s
Who you kiddin?
Do you really think you lastin' a war?
I spit rhymes in the booth until my larynx hoarse
Grab the mic on stage till all my callouses sore
Hands cramped till I can’t peel the bandages off
Last man standin' till I can’t stand it no more
C’mon, you want war?
(I'll shine!)
If the tracks yours or it’s mine (I'll shine!)
Whether I got a deal or unsigned (I'll shine!)
As long as I stay on my grind (I'll shine!)
Whether it’s the Range or the train (I'll shine!)
Even if I don’t rock a chain (I'll shine!)
Qn5, E-Famm, and the Plague (I'll shine!)
I’mma stay on top of my game (Forever)
Ayo, we spread DNA, straight from the Plague, runnin' shit
Wanna battle for funds?
Your ones, you runnin' it
Punchline rapper that could also spit the gutter shit
You ain’t comin' out till 2009, your deal’s a punishment
Got a thousand bars, 15 minutes of fame
That’s like 2 cents to give, and 20 million to gain
And I ain’t done till I see you got a busted ear drum
Your neck’s numb, and a rewind symbol pressed inside your thumb
As a matter of fact, you could do the math on that
There’s women on my dick, and twins is goin half on a sack
Think you on my level, not yet
I blow spots, you bomb threat, you got floor seats, I got next
I smoke MCs you pothead
You leprechaun, I’m Loch Ness — I’m dot com, you dot net
I got on, you got vexed — I got it sewn up
You got the Y2K bug, you shoulda been blown up…
Alright, let’s make this official, I’m bad to the gristle
I’m reppin the Plizzle, can’t guess my initials
Fah shizzle, my nizzle, Won’t help if I diss you
Won’t nobody miss you
Like Kriss Kross and Chip Fu
It’s foul blow the whistle, may sting just a little
Yup!
I’m a small dude, but I fight like I’m 6'2″
A mean individual, wit green by the fistful
My team take an L?
What you thinkin is wishful
You bark like a pitbull, but bite like a shizu
Breath smellin like my dick do, your girl must’ve kissed you
Hollow tip bullets versus nuclear missiles
How you gonna stop the Plague, when you can’t cure the sniffles?
Rhymes stored in the mental, no need for a pencil
Or Pen, when I write shit, the ink start to sizzle
Put your CD away, nobody want to hear your shit, dude
I get 50 a day, them niggas claim they could spit too
Demo — 70 minutes, only took 2 to skip thru
I got ebony women, by the pool in they swimsuit
Now you’ll never be winnin'
Diss my crew, it’ll piss you off
Little kid, be gone, this is bitchproof…
«Pack FM» — «I mastered this» (I'll shine)