Lyrical FLEX (Finish Wit Da Word) CYPHA 'NEW'

U told ya gurl your a star but she wouldn't believe
Ya came in da game thru da back, still had to pay a fee
Got a lock on ya rhyme book but I got the keys
No one checkin 4 ya lyrics like rhymefest's new album release.

N/w: Chrome

Locked up in the inside cage, faded
Never heared, appreciated
Now living like a thug, stalked, framed
Screamed in the clubs for honor, laid
Kicked outside the streets, humbled, fazed
Now writing shitty lines for fun
In the past was number one
Drunk on the ground, still undone
I'm not dead yet, so you want some?
To eat with me the mic chrome

Next werd = citadel

pitifull, your rhymes toiled n spoiled
shit soiled, your master plot was spoiled
i get through only cuz im spittin jewels
while other rappers sit-at-toles (cidatels)

next word= strap on

im the godfather, call me the don
cause all other mcs, ive outshone
like using superglue, the way my words bond,
penatrate deeper than your mums strap on

Next word ; pavement

Year im Big sylass#one i came with the pumpgun to you,fuckingfoo, when you fuck with us we plan the drive-by to you cause you a crackbitch who wanne fuck rich but your pussy hang on the floor ohhh damm bitch get out of here there is the door DAMMM

PahnerOG What the fuck that doesnt end with pavement and you aint supplied a new word.

Young - white & sharp like metal arrows
Never broken under the harrow
Such a cool star from the ghetto's narrow
Street, from the coffee shop, stucked in the weed-shallow
Breakin' ya neck you fuckin' bastard, making you the hallow
Sendin' thru da portal, makin' ya mutha's face sallow
Beatin' you, stealin' ya pride, puttin' to the pig's wallow
I'm ya shadow stalker, ranger Walker, killah with patent
Makin' holes in ya car, blowing home, I'm - Mr. Stormer - bro Rayment
From the Matrix - ya death waitress, waitin' fo ya on the pavement

No heart feelins bro! }:T

>>>Peace<<<

Next werd = thing

when I spit's like a side kick to your cranium
toss yo ass back across the sea to Lithuania
get sent like fedex box with stamps
better yet like a refugee in a suitcase cramped
don't get me vexed....cause when I flex
cats make bets on whose neck I break next
mic chekc: "diiiing!" - come step into the ring
I swing my mic sword at J Cross doin his thing

(just free style, what up to fans from Europe! peace, no dis to Lithuania)

n/w statistics

I'ma quad-line murder this dude..

Yo you force me to get up, so now I be standin'
Blessed with the curse from ma beats no defendin'
I snap punks like twigs, there ain't no back bendin'
Take ya FedEx rap back, fix it and try resendin!

Yo, when I'm thru on ya, they gonna mourn ya
Punched fulla holes like forms, I tried ta warn ya
Cops sort out the ballistics when I get sadistic
Note ya down in they ledger - just another statistic...

N/w galoshes

I got you forced, wha? now you get tossed
like news paper across lawn land on a motha fuckas porch
national post, reuters, bad ass W--tek
get recycled like a stack of yo hole punched documents
I make you teeth whistle you be special
like dem jerry's kids smiling on TV commercial:clap:
facial expression fixed into a permanent question:?
sitting at psychiatric sessions
severe depression, straight jacket, nauseus
didn't have a bucket so puked into galoshes

next word?

Yeah :D :D :D 'bout LTU - thnks! ;) But where's THE 'WORD'???
That ya sword, maybe just a stick or skateboard
Or something better than that - international accord
No fuckin' US image - just ya stinkin' Ford
Which was bought in the Gariunai market, forced
To buy, the poor man asked: "Where's my money source?"
You don't know how It is in the stirred up hell soak
Where the partizans died in the forests of the oaks
So don't even come up with this - burry ya evil hopes
I'm not the real gangsta like you in Toronto
But nobody gave you the right to shit onto
My land, which was a slave in the USSR frontier
Fuckin' life after the wall - break, to somebody looked like a fake
On the East and West coast you lived and didn't even know about our ache
We're livin' to exsist, our resist and pride have never been taken
So don't say that I'm not worth MC's werd - just breakin'
The lies around me, evil and spies from the politics sea shelterin'
It's the worst place of the world after the country of Lenin
Livin' like the lowest race in the WC of politicians - our home is sellin'
So don't even dare to say the shitty werds about my land
Where the beutiful wimin and brave men stand
For the last air breathe in the better world which was blent
People who wanted just the cash for our bloody hands
Of never endin' work and betrayals, givin' us just sand
Have us in their pockets, forcing to add the bullet into the socket
To make a quick suicide, they just don't want to do the clear homicide
And there's nowhere to hide... Good bye! BANG!!!

>>>Peace bro!<<< - just tired of never ending crap about my Country (It was not for you... Just for those people who think that the life is easy when you live in Miami) ;)

Next werd = cross (not me)

Sorry about no n/w last time


No Toronto gansta, dog I’m a geek
Read books, go to school and compose beats
Ain’t from da street
Though at times in my life I had shit to eat
You speak about me in broad sweeps
I know yo country’s bleak, but listen to me
poverty’s most felt in relativity
when I look at a cat next to me
rich family got a trust fund probably
no nike for me so was victim of snobbery
inequality of wealth can end up tragically
some make wages with 9mm gadgetry
now that’s yo north American equality
some race a hatchback some ferrarri
can’t fool me with bullshit of opportunity
equality that is, that concept’s screwy
that’s how it is here, some get to be da boss
of course, most motha fuckas just have to bear da cross

n/w flack

ya'll punks get the skippin like hop scotch
the whole board'll be drippin from my chops
its all about the grand hustle?
i'll show you what rustles, the muscle
this got you running scared like "boo"
ya'll ratting out more mugshots then game of guess who
be sure to grab yo bags befo you hop
cuz dead one's go "eek" from my flack

new word - poison

Yo I hear Denat's sayin, cuz I been there too
No desert-ees under my shirt, but been po' a few
Nowdays, different way, no Venture velcro shoe
Jetset to Europe, Ecuador, I shot New York thru
But ya know these things they all comin' an goin'
Rich dudes dance thru life without really knowin'
Whether sun shinin' or whether it's snowin'
Best get a big umbrella for tha bullshit they throwin'
Before I walk away, I'll take one last real breath
I once knew this dude who drank himself to death
Some nights I'd get home, he'd sleep on the front step
Depressed like fuck but not like Da Press
His shit's fucked up but not a real mess
Still booze let this mafucka cope with da stress
Couldn't check it though, even if he heard truth
Now his friends and fam wearin' black suits
Just another immigrant with East Europe roots.
Sad shit, ya best bet, outta luck, this mack
Guess he just got sick of catchin' life's flack..


n/w pop music