Gold Dome, ta match ya Blown Skull, Holes Full of Mold n old tones
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Gold Dome, ta match ya Blown Skull, Holes Full of Mold n old tones
lyrically blown chromes, bullets hit ya bloodstream
Got me playing with ya gurl like I'm on her home team,
Hit ya so hot, got liquids turning to steam.
This is the reality, U think this a dream?
My rhymes are supernatural...surreal as it seem.
steppin on da scene, killin ya self esteem
as bad as it seems, i hit ya team as a whole and watch the pieces scatter
splattered/ mercury blood drips into teacups sipped by mad hatter/
sanity shattered/ cerebral cortex scattered on surreal steps of jacobs ladder/
catch the beat with any flow fast or slow blast the foes quick to strip a hoe keep yall tippy toe'd fat money clip by the hip long dick spit sick lyrics tek grip the dough
i swerve curve dip dive and merge
smoke spliffs ride get high and splurge
get eraticated by the storm surge i submerge in battle to attack enemies with words when i emerge
Provide & Serve Supply'n Herb Blood Flying From My Words Surivival is The Dirt
hit ya numb body until ya hurt, paralyzed -Sirkumstances-
im takin quick glaces, mess wid me ill i cut down your chances
im swinging a bloody blade, come out of the shade and slice u like a spade
made the foundation thats been laid for decades, the existance never fades