West Coast Connection Forum
Elements => Tha Studio => Topic started by: AlerG on July 04, 2002, 02:00:59 PM
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This is dope, here let me burn it on a spoon/
feed it to you, new experience i'm weeded and through/
i see that you clueless, after watching the title-strike/
it's vital-hype, recovering headaches like midol-might/
that means you pussy, let me wipe the blood-from-ya-groin/
can't you see there's more life under-the-coin/
open your optics, take this mic and watch me rock it/
drop kick, to your pocket, the money...lost it/
hall of fame first shot like MOUSE in the keystyle forum/
people lacking dopeness causing boredom, i'm a score one/
hit the floor son, this motherfucker seems off the meat-rack/
standing on knees, screaming loud, gimme my feet-back/
street-tracks, is what i bless, re-arranging the litter-box/
you spent but made nothing like releasing of glitter-costs/
you mariah, but i'll carry you over-beats, them no-repeats/
will show-defeat, like 8 hour walks on jahova's-feet/
let me get in you like needles, the craziest-addicts/
fiend for my tricks and sleeves and beg-me-to-backflip/
these acrobatics, crack-the-habits, and attack-the-lavish/
rap-is-brackish, kitty here stab-the-track-bitch/
holla back, it's been awhile, peace.
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well you said it homie, consider us boxed-in/
and it's off the hook like it was employed by johny cochran/
it's lost-in, moch-speed, hold up i gotta i chop-weed/
and collect like pimps at hoes for their sucking cock-fees/
i drop-these "MC"'s, like there's only 24 letters left in the alphabet/
i melt-ya-neck, leaving perments wounds and welts-ta-sets/
i'm glad you was attracked, noone else could understand/
how fucken ill we get on a mic when lungs-expand/
it's been awhile since i came on and nuts-busted/
fuck-nothing, bitch ass thought that my guns-rusted/
dj'll cut dust the old fuck the new, i'm-the-focussed/
been reading most emcees keystyles, and rhymes-was-hopeless/
mines-is-dopeness, crushing emcees like mac-trucks/
so back-up, rhymes is like heavy sex...fat-fucks/
last-up, hit me back again with the heineken/
let me know you know it's really our time-ta-win/
peace.
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your out, well i'm in/
wanting to get double the head like simese twins/
catch me receiving more brain than einstein/
rhyme-shine, fucken mutilating the game to make prime-time/
at top-of-hills, poppin-pills like d-12/
fucken around leavin bodies layin next to sea-shells/
be-swell, get off the playing field, i pesticide it/
here's a dick slut, you wanna be the next-ta-ride-it/
fucken higher than planets with rings-around-em/
and anyone supporting bling-i-drown-em/
fuck off with the fake-rap, i shake-back/
rape-tracks, take-crack, go through withdrawls and face-death/
your face chest and rib cage is gettin caved-in/
bars makin nasty nas say....that's amazing/
bringing rappers back from dead, turnin water-to-wine/
daughters-a-dime, 100 dollars a gram so i bought-her-a-line/
now you addicted like rakim on truth-tracks/
punchin rappers, they screamin...gimme my tooth-back/
your whole tupay gets blown off, keepin hair-on-ends/
like a strung out rabbit lookin for heroin/
tearin limb from limb cause i'm the best-that-did-it/
fuck the world, backs turned...tell the rest-i'm-kidding/
peace.
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get outta bed, wake up, rodents and lions here to shake-up/
we goin ape-nuts cause bitches let us bust on their a-cups/
means i'm titty spitten, freestyling from the rounded-chest/
new found-respect with the dude be clowin-the-west/
did you catch on, perhaps your glove should tighten-up/
or lube it down so that ass seem nice-ta-fuck/
shit i lost em, somewhere trippin-in-bermuda/
hitten-the-buddha, rhymes got you swimmin-in-scuba/-
gear, cause they deep dish, with crabs-on-the-side/
plus they sick like pussies with CRABS-ON-THE-SIDE/
that type of shit'll get you stabbed-in-the-ride/
or a pistol blowin a gap-between-ya-eyes/
peace.
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8 minutes have pass, one more and i'm fucken losin-it/
and murder christianity with a blade inside a crusifix/
not to disrespect though, i'm 'fat', no 'PUN'-intended/
a gun-could-end-it, but i don't think you comprehend-it/
look at this cypher, seems priceless, some nice-shit/
anyone else bugged in, it'd turn this motherfucker lifeless/
they no-better, spitten cold with no-sweater/
i'm a 'hunter' gettin ready to blow-heather/
my show's-better, any against, it's time-to-speak-up/
show me the money, glitter, gold, diamonds-and-peanuts/
show me tables, ladders, chairs, rhyming-with-teacups/
show me the pussy, titties, girls, and line-up-three-sluts/
peace.
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well if hip-hop has been cancered i'm here to cure-it/
you underestimated the love for H.E.R at it's purest/
what's with the family, leaving back the step-children/
in the next-building, shooting till there's noone left-killing/
the world's been put in a choke-slam, and programmed/
and i'm about ta flip, it ain't helping, the radio's playing a slow-jam/
my flow-stands at it's best at least to-this-date/
this fucken weaponry can easily make you lose-your-fate/
or shoot-your-tastebuds out the back-of-your-neck/
and have your adam's apple slip through the crack-of-your-deck/
told the kids not to play-around-the-pool/
add some chlorine to the water as i'm laying-down-these-fools/
peace.
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i'm a bring em out dead whether onyx like-it-or-not/
i'm like a tree in time square watch me light-up-the-spot/
i'm lethal spitten lyrics, turn a mic-to-a-glock/
and watch your family run from these trifling-shots/
you can see me-and-mouse run free-in-ya-house/
motherfucker steps up, we put three-in-ya-spouse/
we want the kraft dinner, onion rings and weed-then-we-out/
where i positined myself you ain't seeing-my-clout/
i'm the type of motherfucker that robs-and-steals/
put out the dopest shit ever, and never copps-a-deal/
while these pussy motherfuckers lic shots-and-sqeal/
i hear about it on the news and it does not-appeal/
next time i hear you talk about keep-it-real/
i'm a unload this bitch and put three-in-ya-grill/
and anybody in the way of the spree'll-be-killed/
so be a sport motherfucker, put me-in-ya-will/
peace.
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damn this is hot. this is gettin good.
keep on comin
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you munch-on my rhymes i heat up to keep your lunch-warm/
the king piece in the chess game so i crush-pawns/
so fuck off joining a cypher with nothin-to-show/
plus bluffin-ya-flow eat emcees like something-to-go/
you mickey d's rapper, fuck the math i'm coming-after/
and fuck cash money i'm number one stunning-rappers/
who ain't got shit on they mind, spit-on-they-tomb/
open there mother eight months, shit-on-they-womb/
listen-to-you, caught in an allergic reaction/
fuck the bleach i'm a use detergent-to-blast-em/
but time to move forward fuck the side-step/
live more die-less, and i ain't even start to ride-yet/
peace.
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we got hellish hunger, which means heaven ain't even close-to-me/
no remorse for the dude opposin-me, watch me go-and-eat/
low-emcees, south paws aimed at the south-pole/
in a bout-fold, or i'm a knock you out-cold/
severe punishment, understand i'm runnin-shit/
glocks with double-clips, make you trip out fumble-and-slip/
on these frozen metaphores, i got better-lines/
i'm higher callibre, so that means i'm spitten some meta-fives/
whatever you do, i jinx-it/
fuck the sphinx's, muthafuckas ain't even stepped to the ring-yet/
but when you do i'll be waiting-for-ya/
losing my hair on a track because i gotta keep my patience-stored-up/
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damn...Dope shit ya'll
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What?