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MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
while im sober ill beat u to death wit a beer Call the korona later,{koroner}
after this ya comp is "turned off",like fags watchin lesbian porno's in gay clubs,
u like "If im lyen god please strike me with lightnen" u still wont get a "volt in ya favor",{vote in ya favor}
i know that u fake son,
its like u puttin "lipstick on vietnam books" all of the "war storys u make up",
methadon u weak
you dont wanna box wit me,
given head wit ya extentions in is da only time u bob and weave,
ill beat u down and have u leekin out rhymes,
ill reign over u 8 times till you say "dang he's on cloud 9"
you thinks you sounds live,
ill upload one rhyme for dis dude, he'll feel like he's in school,cause all it takes is a Single file line,
dont even bother tryna right,
ill Tie ya vocal cords to the back of a old ass ford now u got exhausted pipes,
u bite so much u gotta parana instead of a c on ya copywrite,
u mus got a cotton bloodline,dog cause gotta be the softest type,
im servin clowns like i supply food at the circus now,
like sellin untamed animals dis battle gone be worth ya wild,
keep testin and like a c-section ima cut out the middle man,
ya victory gone fall shorter than ya fans attention spand,
i hate when kids talk trash,
ill clear the place and seal ya fait like a fortunetellin ziplock bags,
u wont rhyme for the next nine years,
im from another world,u could be a cover girl and still not have a fresh idea,
Season him cause he about to be all bitter,
i Murder beats,i aint Servin drinks,but ima still spit bars tender,
kid u gone suffer now,
im sound like a alchoholic when i tell the mods 2 "gimme another round"
sick and nautious,
make my lyrics vomit,
i flow like i kidnapped water from fifteen different faucets,
bury wack kids,witout yellow plastic kids is cautious,
victory's clearly flawless,
cypha teacher,get rid of a bad case of diareah,shit ive lossed it,
pyro switch to arson,
turning albino's nearly dark skin,a schitzo's talking
throw a carcus threw the ceiling of ya buildings apartment
u soundclick,i hope dat www.calms u down,
u could loose weight from a fatal disease and still be iller then u pound for pound
murder ya entourage,in ya moms garage,
i bring hell 2 u homes,pray on ya cellular phone,jus so u call on god,
drop like naughtsy and islamic bombs,
u got no skill,u should clean up road kill the work u did on ya verse was a rotten job,
ya alias is tekneek but u aint equipped no guns,
to me this battle is Evil kennevals as a reporter now its just a publicity stunt,
im serious dunn,
Ya chances aint slim its like mona lisa standin next to a midget they little to nunn,{none}
battlin me son is like,havin a seizure,u wont realize u shook,
like im advertisen a novel i wrote,i dont do things "buy the book",{by the book}
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