Dead to the Line

[SHEEPISH LORD OF CHAOS]

Openly evervance my flows be the essence of the core
Check the temple I bust rappers like you just an adolescent popping pimples/
It isn’t that simple cramp the lines drop bombs making those bushes
Get kushes when suckers get the douches’ pushing up daisies making others look lazy/
Claim me as the best even I’m not even, leveled or
Steven, Stefan, or anything on the echelon/
My champs be belts worn by the torn
I’m scorn you bore when you was even a bit poor/
Rip scores darts can’t even account for the amount I write
Leaving the bit of slight allot to chew when you bit a bite/
Write cha tightest rhymes mine pours out more blood on the dance floor
Than the Virgin Mary when she got it raw, uncut and hard fo sho/
Cancerous entombs catacombs batarangs flown throw domes skulled up raw
Hold cha paws baby your weaker than a baby tiger I’m sick as a lion when I’m rhyming/
I’m sharp as the knife Jason carries; I’m sharp as the sperm impregnating your girl
I’m sharp as the wits you trying match with, I’m sharp as electrical volts shocking you wit/
If you got skills then yours aren’t built there just stilts holding clowns up
Drop you down a few levels watch cha frown harder than Richie Rich/
You can’t get with the legit flip flow flame thrower
Blowing more smoke causing allot of fire/
Burning down you forest while I got green
And drop vocal schemes most heads can’t dream/
Scribe the trials dialed down the tone brown outs broken wings dinged up bling
Leave you soaked up rays cold gazes be plays I script like Shakespeare & Tyler Perry/
Bury more heads in the sand think the dominos fell I brawl wit heads in the halls
Crippler cold face openly solar plexus I Dexter this when I electing shit/
Sky you larks by hawk’s fraction off the raps that hacked up by them diddy boppers
Rock shoulders colder than tiles titled off the rival now rappers are Marvel/
While I DC you PC rappers trying to be P.C. when I am P.C. it’s hard to be me
Without cursing up a storm breaking down minds beyond the norm/

This the skills of a dangerous psychotic emcee
Never ready just a little heady
Just know I’m a bevy
Leisurely lyrical
Kicking ballistics
Spitting out stats
Having you dead to rights
When I’m up to bat
You’re just dead to the line
When I’m up close and personal

[Drunken Monk]

u are a fucking visionary man

peace son