bringin storms wit a sentence spit thorns at ya apprentice
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bringin storms wit a sentence spit thorns at ya apprentice
I flip thick scripts like raw-grits and heads when saws hit//
makin ya nauseous cuz i Flu-ently cough-it//
Tha words i talk will always stay tha words i walk//
rhyme-books lined in chalk wit circlin' hawks//
murderous thoughts skills sacrilegous mic's burn on the cross//
neva cross the mob boss
or ull get tossed in a pine box
Dropping emcee's like stock, increasing the murder rate on ya blocks
By decreasing contenders by the flocks, cause fatal lyrical lick-shots
kick-rocks like holey socks just 4 poppin from lips//
karate kick ya health-kits worse than bruce-lee flicks//
imma toothless hick with a head on a stick
n i rollin thick jus like cow shit
throwing plow hits on ur foul lips u talk but cant walk cuz i crushed ur style bitch
Look at ya now snitch, ya can't even kick it. On some foot in ya mouth shit, it's just me bein' sadistic
only ppl i ever fit in with was tha misfits
that sit in rusted whips reciting tales from the crypt
my-blade'll-slit ya facial-revert ya 2 the cradle bitch
im jus anotha basket case kid
i take a lotta pills cuz i hate this