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Guest
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Prodical Rebirth.
IP:
Yo dawg i deprive the Cypha, My rhymes are like Hieroglyphs they hard to decipher,
Rhymes of ill tunes ta enlighten ya, And I got you gurl for a 1 nighter,
Lighters lightin blazes to ya severed limbs,
Crimson leakin from acronyms, when metaphorical disasters live,
Reakin havic on yo lapse of synonyms...Words, dawg im killin’ em’
you best be feelin em, they rockin the ricta scale,
Im a surprise all over like a bride to be unveiled,
Playa It’s real, I got time, defined and it’s now standin still,
Dawg, Such sublime Lyrics shouldn’t be unleashed up in yo grill,
Hows it feel to be in the presence of great verbalism,
You wont have no reasurence like followers of Atheisum,
It’s my Lethal lyricism, killin, yet I’ve found peace like people of buddhism,
Hateful paradigm, leavin tha prism, Open ya eyes, we all the same organisms,
But some stand out from the rest unleashin individualism,
Asendence to the fullest from the Mundane fision...
Vulgar, Atrosious...Atrosities unleashed publicly,
Slauterin simple states of mind, as I Escape this childish anarchy,
Hardly, you so called playa’s sittin round’ as yo rhymes-decay,
Dawg It’s time to pave-the-way, for times-to-change,
It’s time for the big-dawgs-ta-play,
dun be scared we just demonic Fiends,
Intelligible by all biological means, but everytime you spit dawg, the iller i seem,
Im a killer by instinct, And soon i’ll be surrounded by green,
Yo green his green, next thing, no bling, just you be lonely,
To bad homey... Heres yo ending....
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