Saturday, February 23, 2008

Time to get this off my chest, I think forward like a game of chess,
I bless the microphone with grown poems and known to rip,
clones skip their heartbeat, my art be original,
the underground rap keeping the tradition intact,
I stack dope raps with more facts which is actual,
the supreme mathematics for you Asiatics,
I am at this, getting props and rock spots,

The truth is I groove and make moves on beats,
and increase my stacks of text, and put this down on wax,
I get higher then a kite and ignite the track,
it will be blazing hot, I 'll be phrasing amazing,
rhymes my lines flow, I would not slow down,
I'll wreck mics and spit raw pal, flow like the Nile,

I come with more styles than Daniel San,
I rhyme for fun, and my mind is on riches,
I am on more fly shit than witches on broomsticks,
I move slick, spit the thick convo and rip,
this is a gift to flow the raw techniques,
I peak to the top with this style of rhymes.


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