battling you is empty, like playin with text be
the pain is intense see.. my brain is entrenched deep,
into thoughts of makin moves to get the fuck outta this life
the sounds that I write got emotion blurrin my sight
all this anger n' pain got me hurtin the mic
i ain't gonna let 'em fall til all a my dreams is true
put the kid over some hot beats n' poof...
you got magical music that'll heat the booth
the flow is evidence, the rhyme schemes is proof
the content is ill, the talk is real... competition I kill
watch ya spot, i'm in a position to fill any position or skill
so called sick emcees got nothin on my medicinal flows
throwin up fingers n' bows.. god bless the mic n' tickle ya nose
Leavin this kid rocked, when I take advantage of rules
its a multi battle, punches dont have to be attackin at you
I could just talk like a babblin fool, in one line ill have as much yappin as you would normally have in a few, and practically use as much of this battle threads room as I want, slappin a broom, magical tomb, laughing at shrooms, immaculate dude, passin the duece, blah blah faggot thats blue, cracking a shoe into a pile of traffic and goo until a bitch with a towel rack attached to her boobs passes and screws a million zoos, koo koo kachu.

^line 16 was actually one line, im just real noob so its a little bit stretched.

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