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HHERound2 - Jaylacage
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LONE HIPHOP RB ARTIST HERE PHARAKHAN COPP THAT ISH
Who is PharaKhan? An lone emcee hailing from Canada, elevating in commercial hiphop and underground urban music How Old is PharaKhan? If you're considering Canada, legal! If in the states, almost there! Are you only just hiphop? Hell no, I'm and R&B artist too, linked up with one of the craziest trackmaster's around, Deuce, he comes up with the beats, r&b/rap/whatever! Are you just and artist? Nope. Graff artist and a bboy as well. Into pretty much all 4 elements of hip hop...oh yeah I also mix around on the tables too. Any last comments? Hell yeah, KEEP A LOOKOUT for me people!! I'm planning to lace all my tracks I've done out on my album featuring some hella dope artists! PEace
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Hip Hop General
Charts
#165,106 today Peak #1,688
#103,788 in subgenre Peak #903
Author
Words: Point Blank Music: Eminem
Rights
(Lyrics Only) PharaKhan Records 2002
Uploaded
April 23, 2002
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Round 2 Battle against Jaylacage
Lyrics
With Beat: Your punches miss like atomic bombs without uranium// My punches hit n leave my name tatooed upon your cranium// I'm original that's why you'll never be wreckin me// If you verify the bars you spit they're lackin authenticity// Target wackness - stabbin you wit precision// If your skill needed revival I wouldn't make the incision// Learn to diss correctly - all you do is slap dicks// Not even Vince Macmahon can pay enough for YOU TO ACT SICK// It's the time to bring your best cuz i'm runnin this recital // Like the bengals, when's the last time they ever won a title??// Lacing rhythms - while you dont even floss at all// As a matter of fact you spit so bad you turn your microphone off// Nobody likes nothing you spit, it's not even half-bad// Wasn't that understudy line already spit by supernat// Eatin this cat, for our battle it's lunchtime// You're wack cuz you're the only one to laugh at your own punchline// I'm on it like pitbulls attracted to hot dogs// If I told you to bring the heat, you couldn't spit a hot song// Like hydrochloric acid there's no way to object// If your disses had a satellite, you wouldn't connect// If this kid's like referenz he better come wit something betta// Only way he'd win the judge's hearts is if he spit a love letta// When I heard the news about you born I had to run for cover// Til' I met ya mama then I was like "fuck I broke the rubber"???// Whateva beat you throw - I'ma piss on every note// Ya only thought of a punch is the rainbow skittle mama joke// Acapella: Lead role in Stephen King books consider yaself dismembered// Watch me pluck your vertabrae blocks like I was playin Jenga// Force feeding this kid then hittin him wit a second helping// You're rhymes are the cheapest thing out since 10-10-220// Knockin you the fuck out dont get up just stay down// The tightest bars you ever gripped are still set up at the playground// Swinging like couples on Jerry finding out your wife is a man// Flippin so much shit they found ya vowels in ya frying pan// Stop lying man - statistics say you're a fake// Jalacage is gay the only real story to hit ricky lake// Even if you threw a line at my head I still wouldn't feel you// Ya whole style falls of the mark like Kelly Price's belt loops// You could cum on your rhyme and still wouldn't make it fertile// The only reason you'll ever shine is if you bit montell's hairstyle// Like chinese gangs before I kill I ask who sent ya// Punch the back o ya head so hard you'll see my knuckles in your retna//
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