Saturday, June 23, 2007

You wack lyricist spit the weak shit, about drugs, guns and sex,
my plan is demand respect from any set, make a timeless hit,
Let me difine what hip hop is, dropping dope rhymes getting props kid,
making heads bob, you kind of laim, you pose no threat hops,
so stop the bullshit, your steady bragging about your full clip,
I see through your fronts about your stunts and blunts,
What about having some fun, True brown skin kid from Asia running this son,

Yo! the Island I am from ain't nothing nice, everything got a price,
My niggas eat 3 times a day rice, Where the women got more flavour than spice,
2500 years of culture is fading, war makes my people fall apart,
I creep deep in the dark, with art from the heart, I gain knowledge from the start,
I let God guide me, I deside to write tight scriptures
Representing the authenic hip hop, my paragraphs displays graphics like pictures,
It is the Asiatic brownskin kid, back again, to entertain and maintain
on the microphone, either it is rain,snow,hail or I never fell,
I got to tell you I can help you to propel, I sell my texts well.
The realest of the real.


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