Originally Posted by
J.T.S.
Evil status pitch the fork in a emcee's cabbage
Bag the baggage, my lines the fattest, leave bodies the flattest
before i pass bury the passage, clones stop the maddness
grab this wordplay from the baddest batter to leave em battered
Bang bitches out, breaking mattress matters
Crab kids hiding in barrels, get hit for the habitual habit
Skills they never had kids ashamed of their parents
Cowards apparently running like rabbits
Big dart throwing marathon, courtesy of viacom
Shot hit my violent arm, seeds raised on the farm
Far from a Don Corleone, seller of corner chron
born in a storm, raised in hurricanes
slept in streets, busses, and trains
Everyday matters matted my brain
Pains my middle name, flames my first
Been here since the devil's birth
Cursive writing the curse, signing the hearse
Death for your certificate
feet broke from kicking bricks
my bars hit you felons, pockets dug missing tips
Break-fast in the morning, know your missing grits
Break it down swift fashion, fatal harrasment
Smashed since Scott la Rock's death
Used to break dance, and freestyle on project steps
Repped to earn respect, and kept the flow flexed
So dedicated to the art, sometimes the chics got no sex
Known vet, though unknown to the matrix
They don't want me to make it, unless i make some fake shit
That 85 percent hatred, that Q-tip industry's shady rule lines sacred
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