The microphone molesta

The Chevy undresser

Stupid dope fresh tight shit resurrector

Top gun man mod best of the besta

The living MC, peace and resta

Still tested the flexed gunna

The make funna the appisary make runna

Make summa cold with rhymes that spit

Get gifted, lifted, delinquent wit

I be the prophet, in my hand

Top it, stop it, felt like rockin when I rock it

Locked it down with this perverse verse

Every fuckin curse I burst to hurt

Room crowds physical fitness rhymes

Coke heads couldn't do my lines

Im decorated like Christmas pines with Italian rocks

MCs become silhouettes in shock



Reading my eyes will say it in many ways

Losing my pride will save it in many days



Hit the dirt

Because the words I spit will do more than just rip your shirt

I'll bitch slap your soul

Track the track control

You coming at me?

You can't hack it though

So ridiculous

Watching my crew get sick of this

Wickedness

Pitchin this

Lyrical brichisness

To crews and cliques

Maiden, men, and mistresses

This is my life

The twilight, the fight night

And trying to see nothing but the highlights

When I write

These eyes on horizons

Top of Mike, start cries on to Krylon

Fire on, rude men telekinetically

As aterically beats become a clarity

Feel averity's heroism, and heresy

And severe every MC I see with neverity



Reading my eyes will say it in many ways

Losing my pride will save it in many days



Why not

What a keep

Why not

What a keep

Why not

What a keep



Why not give me what I came to deserve?

Why not give me what I came to believe?

Why not give me what I came to deserve?

Why not give me