Punchline cypher
 

he speaks....
 

I'mma push my advance up and over the budget
If rap dont work,
I'mma punch my A&R in his chest till his shoulders touchen

I came up, I don't deal with lame fucks
I'll just "beat you flat out" like hitting topless A-cups

I'm tired of mc's and they crappy disc's
I'll punch death in the face,
and walk around the hood with ashy fists

you're a verbal virgin, a metaphor misfit
always "ducking heads" like red light districts

catch a round to the get, I clown you fuccs
it's like you giving oral to leprachauns,
"going down on yah luck"

I'll spit a rhyme and make a nigga testify
ur established gayness has just been rectified...

he speaks....
 

perfected the rhymes, most feel vunerable, neglected and decline,
his punches are so forced, he needs an operator to connect his lines

"he speaks" but his freestyle lacks any attention
he aint a knight he's more like an accidental invention...

I spit ice shit just to see if you burning like a herb
U just spit shit cuz words was too hard for your learning curb/

Maybe if you was clever...you wouldn't think snow was hot weather
Now words decline just hearing the shit you've tried to put together

he speaks....
 

not too concerned with the beef, but damn this herbies weak
my punches hit so close to home yah neighbor heard me speak

-Alpo

rhyming is an activity, fucc it called it charity
it'z rare u find anotha me, who seems 2 b such a rarity

he speaks....
 

time will tell if you'll blow up or not
when I time travel to mammograms and "blow up spots"

Alpo

naaaw...he blows up not,
the only time he blows anything is givin men shots
then feelin them spots he's real in them knots--lol

Does anyone know why this kid even speaks//
His punches big as PeeWee, jus gay an weak//

he speaks....
 

call me "complex" dog I'll beat you with rhymes
you like a phone tap the way you read inbetween my lines

yo dogg stop rappin like yer sumthing
u be in tha bakk ally in my garbage rumeging...
lookin fer yer skill that i tossed out tha window....
ayo i killed on this so bad yer bitch is now a widow

Demostratin yall fags,ya weak,my punchlines like stones
While yall give more low blows unda da belt den Roy Jones

Read you like a book, scan over ya contents, read the text as well
The pages crumble, the spine is worn, you ain't HALF the story you tell