Wednesday, June 18, 2008

The brag and boater, punk rapper roaster,
got you feening, for the tough raps I am phrasing,
The brown skin Asiatic kid be aiming, and not naming,
and not just claiming, I dig chicks like a needle in to a groove eh....
who the truest is since Christ?
I am out to rip mics and get props,
I rock like diamond, ain't no denying man,
rappers are vaginal like clams, my plans advanced,
mad euphoric and psych you like you are entrance,
get gone clone, my poems flow off the dome,
my lines longer than your nose don,
I am crook, and not your brother,
Only a army with automatic weapons can make a shook one,
ain't no other can claim my spot, you might turn and toss,
your tongue on rum, I'd rather get props and not crumbs,
to you sellouts I got enough clout,


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