The microphone molesta. The Chevy undresser. Stupid dope fresh tight shit resurrector. Top gun man mod best of the besta. The living MC peace and resta. Still tested the flexed gunna. The make funna the appisary make runna. Make summa cold with rhymes that spit. Get gifted lifted delinquent wit. I be the prophet in my hand. Top it stop it felt like rockin when I rock it. Locked it down with this perverse verse. Every fuckin curse I burst to hurt. Room crowds physical fitness rhymes. Coke heads couldn't do my lines. I'm decorated like Christmas pines with Italian rocks. MCs become silhouettes in shock. Reading my eyes will say it in many ways. Losing my pride will save it in many days. Hit the dirt. Because the words I spit will do more than just rip. your shirt. I'll bitch slap your soul. Track the track control. You coming at me?. You can't hack it though. So ridiculous. Watching my crew get sick of this. Wickedness. Pitchin this. Lyrical brichisness. To crews and cliques. Maiden men and mistresses. This is my life. The twilight the fight night. And trying to see nothing but the highlights. When I write. These eyes on horizons. Top of Mike start cries on to Krylon. Fire on rude men telekinetically. As aterically beats become a clarity. Feel averity's heroism and heresy. And severe every MC I see with neverity. Reading my eyes will say it in many ways. Losing my pride will save it in many days. Why not?. What a keep?. Why not?. What a keep?. Why not?. What a keep?. Why not give me what I came to deserve?. Why not give me what I came to believe?. Why not give me what I came to deserve?. Why not give me what I came to believe?. Reading my eyes will say it in many ways. Losing my pride will save it in many days