i hobble over cobble stones, glass flask in my fist
i'm pissed, not good with rapping but i can write a mean death list
and never hear no yammer over flow or grammar
i love to see emcee's stammer, repeatedly, with the finesse of a jackhammer
between me and that i need a damper
fuck verbal masturbation- i don't pamper, or pretty up the process
i want answers
learn't you can't rap well if you're anti-social,
but isolations made me focal like my biorhythm's supposed to
there's nobody i'm too close to, to not ditch their ass and roast you
pick apart you're pro tools
i'm the only beat machine, beating steve mcqueen at who's cool
you're all only fool's gold
coalminers wearing shiners under you're blinders
i'm always back with diamonds
oh what butterfingers you droppin' jewels?
you leaving clues for your homies to catch and use?
i'm sorry but i have to excuse that waste
i catch and release at the waist like a vibe i grab and that vibe IS mad
not a "Vybe," that's sad, that guy's had, don't cry- cheer up lad, its just hip hop its not so bad
maybe i should ease off, maybe buddy never knew his dad...
no words are ironclad anyhow is you're blood from zion pal?
it's a shame for those with switches instead of brains and thinkin' comes out all lame
all prep'd for buzzards, vultures hover just as soon as the buzzer leaks a thought
you'll all get caught sizzling if you think you're hot
you're not, so stop diddling and riddling yourselves
announce to you're woman that you denounce you're vows
-and the meaning of love's lost and replaced with the feeling of gut rot
feel the heat brought
-on the back of you're necks in this mexican standoff
some opponents are soft, but fuckit i hope we all get shot.