Buryin' Bradinn (Radioactive Mix of Omnipotence)
I think the title speaks for itself. A little bitch, beggin' for a diss, just a different form of suicide. You fuckin' faggot.
Some cats out of Madison, WI.
Special K - producer
Aristippus - emcee
Tropical - emcee
Lucid Dream (D.N.A) - emcee
Just started recording a month ago, bu
Everyone is doing their own thing right now. Special K's perfecting the art of the producer, Aris, Lucid, and Tropical are recording with anyone and everyone. Dropping verses anywhere they can. Look for some shit from Matt A.'s basement in a minute. The Jackal's always lurkin' as well, no hard feelings. Some faggots better watch the fuck out, before someone's feelings get hurt. You know who you are. Not even like he'd talk shit to our face, it's not like he's a real man....
Members:
Special K - producer
Aristippus (S. Roa) - emcee
Tropical (Teeny) - emcee
Ares (The Wallstreet Cat) - emcee
Lucid Dream (D.N.A.) - emcee
Watch for the album in the next week or so!
"The Endless Beginning...."
Story behind the song
PMS Jackal got a little too cocky. Had to fuckin' bring him down to earth. Let the listeners be the judge. Too bad our CD will sell 5 times as much than anything this queer will ever compile. And be 5 times better quality-wise. What good is a studio with no talent!? HAHA
Lyrics
Teeny Markoveeni:
kick that, diss track, time to gun on this hunchback bitch ass//
made him beat my dick 'til i heard his wrist crack//
we all know this scholastic over-achievin' faggot//
i'm gettin' tired of your overacted dramatics//
it seems your legs would break from walkin' bitch//
a pussy with brittle bones really shouldn't be talkin shit//
i'll bet your whole skull'll shatter when your jaw get hit//
i pass the challenge to battle, the point of jackin' off in the jackal's adam's apple//
leave you cryin', lyin' on the floor//
easily compared to a whore, 'cept your never paid//
attempts at pussy a bigger failure than any cd you ever made//
i associate you with jealousy like Brad and lemonade//
I'm better days(?), catch you on friday keepin' the bench warm//
back in the locker room, i have you blowin' me like a french horn//
the envious hatin' got me degratin' bradinn//
what can i say? this whole track is an asshole excavation//
Aristippus:
Talkin' 'bout Rock T, you talkin' about me//
sellin' half of this bitch ass back into slavery//
the motherfucker up to Super-Max//
on the block with homeboys, gettin' raped in the ass//
stick dicks in fake hoes, rich kids but no cake and no dro//
a cookie monster that bake hoes, your (?) flow ain't slow, but blows//
half-brotha ass hoe, i'm half-white ya know?//
you wanna keep it music before these punches get thrown//
talk about ice on the mic, you's a dyke for life//
been around the world twice, never met a halfling so goddamn white//
ain't feelin' the Quilen rhymes you bite//
in spite, you better learn the facts, you gettin' burned and blast//
dissin' Deities on tracks, pissin' on your face when the Deities strike back//
i don't get on dope tracks cuz i'm not about that//
but this serious diss burns faggots black//
so if that's what you want dog, where you at?//
i hear you say shit about weed in your lines, i'll threaten your life//
in a day i smoke three times as much as you have in your whole fuckin' life//
he's a halfrican so i'm only whippin' half-of-him//
ah yes, a master of disaster, double blast after ya black's tongue(?)//
like J and Castro, your right arms the nest to go//
what you gonna do in a cast except dance ho?//
Ares:
like a toilet, you can flow but you have shitty content//
your text is a joke like another East bomb threat//
first off this bitch is only jealous cuz he's whack-as-shit//
faggot bitch the only time you "hard" is when you slap-yer-dick//
i'll snap your prick, put it to your head then i'll stab you quick//
and we don't give a shit about who the fuck your daddy is//
cuz if he did produce you through your mom's hammered clit// (oh it's bloody!!)
he must produce weak shit, that's bound to be disastrous//
we're masters kid, and burn J with text like a book of matched bitch//
then hide the body under a stack of mattresses//
fuckin' his mom on top 'til her ovaries are cancerous//
we know you ain't got the balls to answer this//
Lucid Dream:
So the jackal wanna battle, bitch you don't wanna step to this//
all the while you straddle that faggot Lil' John's dick//
cuz we don't need a studio to embarass a fruity hoe//
nothin' but a whack flow behind a $1000 microphone//
really though, just a weak computer geek with no lyrical skills//
ability's innate, you can't buy it with dollar bills//
still I kill, do you a favor and end your career//
he's been recording for years and still nobody wants to hear this queer//
a no talent bitch, fixed to challenge my clique//
bout to get ripped quick, get my dick in his ass it's a tight fit//
but I ain't done with this bitch, me and my crew we rap-tight//
damn you was right, Quilen's the only one you "Black-Like"//
cuz you act-white, and rap-like a caucasion//
half made of asian-persuasion, OH! now he's Jin imitatin'//
now you're finally facin' some heat, some real competitors//
jackal predators, you should just be glad that we mentioned-ya//
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