THE PROPS

I host this mic most couldn't bust a rhyme,
without bragging about their clip,
I flip the pure dosage of the remedy,
to combine the rhythem with the melody,
and going to put on wax and serve you,
to please your ear drums, if you want,
to hear non, it is ok, I will flow,
all day and do shit the raw way,

All the fake ones get exposed,
check the poetry I put into motion,
you did not noticed me, I catch
your rat behind like a cat do,
while you fake moves, I shake crews,
and breakthrough and take all the props,
forget your champagne wishes,
I am trying to eat, now that the compitition
is non there ain't nobody wanna compete,

while you cook up the pot, I see through the plot,
why you get knocked, I rather flow and rock,
the spots and make them heads bob, my line is the,
luxuary like drops and yachts, turn up the boom box,
a notch, I pop dope lines off the dome like scotch,
I am known to spot a snake, I want that proper cake,
I am on this mic, spit it the hype stuff,