Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I got to flow on, with the dope song,
you know it is on, I ain't got my hand on the chrome,
the grown lyricist, not illitarate without gimmicks kid,
rather a perfectionist, I continue to rip,
mics, get rice kid I am nice, I do not claim to be the badest,
the classic version of a slick dope rhyme flower,
forget about status, class I have you wish you had this,
I master the techniques, blast with vocals written on my rap sheet,

Just check this out, I got mad clout,
to kick, you doubt me your sick, test me
not, the best be hot, I wreck the mic with,
freestyle flows and ensure to hit,
those with legit rhymes that fit,
their needs, my rhymes go click clack,
say cheese, on the streets kids have trees lit up,
but I rather not, It is all a plot, I am not getting got,

I got enough rhymes to flow on, just hold on,
my poems are writen to be hitting, I admit
there no rapper who can be spitting this tight,
aight, you biters I rhyme to iginite your state of mind,
to be original your rhymes are cony, you have nothing for me,
I mean no value, I kick raps from here to malibu,
the truth is too bitter true, I make moves forget glammer and glitter,
It ain't no riddle how I maintain.


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