Tragic!

[Road Runna]

I leave my soldias unafraid to attack/
run a way wit a mac, on some day ina track/
i'll spit my way thru the cracks, and the shades of the rapp/
i make my enemies unable to breathe/
peeps blamed me for creating the streets/
The picture is beatiful like the ground-makin the seeds,
Knock out the foundation of teeths./
I am the lyrical beezlebull, i physical seize the bull, n leaves it full/
of Frankensteined body parts, oiled fahrenheited, buckled hearts/
heated up wit love n comfort, some sort/
of pink violation ov my mysteries/
some type of loving fun hearted history, within the middle aged misery, it sickens me/
she said she's missing me,wishin she was kissing me,
but she ain't getting kisses cus i see the bitch in she/
i'm no criminal, so trivial, lyrical mathematics/
rapp crack addicts/, bad bitch, gave me a sad kiss/
i lock it on arithmethic, i checked it, suspected it, like when cops check their red list/
call it a guest list, pathetics, shot caller, called the medics,didn't gave a fuck 'bout my etics.
it's not a game it's a lifestyle, but then again my personal wackabillity of throwing my knives/
in drive by's, lives die/
These peeps trynna block away the worlds biggest subculture, well fuck all ya/ drop all tha/
unawareness of hiphop, bitch, fuck, that's not all we can say but the other shit is some sick-pop/
cus' whenever i start a phat verse/
I lyrical kill emcess around me like my mac bursts/
And that hurts/
i attrack hearse, always attack first/
dumb pot head cocaine only makes crack worse/

[Kal EL]

Nice Spit!