An MC coming from Western New York. Mostly Battle Rhymes but the future holds some meaningful songs.
A one man show. Any MC who wants some of this, come get it.
Story behind the song
A diss to Jedi, he keeps coming back weak so I just hit him again
Lyrics
It fake rappers season Im on the hunt, leave ya ears bleedin bitch smackin that fake shit you brought, knock it out the fuckin park like Barry Bonds, get a quick start your still 50 yards behind kdon/ get beat down with ten knuckles, look like a clown blowin blood bubbles, finish you off with the heat stashed in the belt buckle, head red looks like a skittle, it was simple, now ya flows dead, see ya at your fuckin funeral/ know who you fuckin wit, sprayin shit gets ya dome lit while I just hold my dick and spit and tattoo your face with fine print, get off my dick, or do I have to bust to blow you of it blow ya head off ya shoulder so close the coufin/ you bitches have gotten me heated, the fumes flaming off inhale the toxin gonna cause you stop breathin, lyricaly boxing bob and weave rocking your whole team, you catching an ass kicking, you wishing this was just a bad dream
But it isn’t its reality, screw drive ya head flat like a stanly, im the real craftsman, the architect constructin shit to automatically slap you on the chin lets see you talk shit again/ I don’t run with an empty gun like eminem, I come prepared, letting these infesting bullets infest in ya fuckin hair/
Im the only Mc gunnin shit, this game im runnin it, so you punk bitches just get up and get off of it, If you don’t ya gonna get smoked style get broke facing Kdons lyrical punishment
Here comes true potential, now I have come to slice you, fuck it drop a bomb on you like you were Israeli/ no peace till you deceased whipe away your dreams or you can lick the sweat off my ass crease/ you’ll probly like that, a faggot tossin salad, hold up, while I toss another sick ballad/ your flow is suckin while mines mind fuckin, the broncos buckin toss you in the games fallen dungeon,/ yall speakin in dead tones, I got arsonic flows, ya body slumpin over like you followed George jones/ your not even close with those rhymes that you wrote, ya so low you can suck my dick till you choke/ fuck triad, terrace clique and the products, I slay you little fucks, when I bust you just rust, when’s enough enough/ left dead in the dust, jedi and nfms, pushin up daisies those fuckin fairies just put out shit for little kiddies and pansies/ playin street when they to scared of beef, fuckin wit a a vet, can only be identified by your fucking teeth/ don’t bring your fake shit or I will grab my grip and lace you down with my lyrical punishment/
chorus
