West Coast Connection Forum
Elements => Tha Studio => Topic started by: bez on May 07, 2010, 06:55:22 AM
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This flow, epidemic, its sick to the stomach,
You know I'm electric, volts, convulsive,
You rummage through mucas to find the illness,
But come up wit nothin, murder's ride illusive,
Stabbed in the heart, you leak a bloody mess,
Found your weakness, embedded in your chest,
Oxygen masks strapped on necks, can't catch a breath,
So I snatch ya lungs out an emplant em in the bez,
Respire now twice as much, I'm twice as tough,
Body counts em risin up, like Nazi's struck,
Look you ran outter luck, so look shook,
Had enough of this powder, right, white's enough,
Bluff me you realize, youve committed suicide,
Cos I never close my eyes you livin in a homicide,
Not even cynaide can capsulate the hatred,
Tounge cut out, can't speak, your dictatored,
Eliminated from the system, your mission is grounded,
You missin, you the victim, your life, never found it,