this wack-EmCee got forced to a vain-of-pleads, screamin painfully- that'll have the whole crowd yellin' holy-shit like usin' rosaries for anal-beads//
blastin' scripts that'll slash your arms and wrists- leavin' you shakin' and prayin' like a pastor with parkinsons//
Master blaster.. your tied-inside, smooshed like a panacake- Talki n shit midnight clamin you ran~late//
i'll teach you a crack-up, back-up homie before my slugs leave you clapped-up//
your labled a net-wannabe, actin' hard-and-crude, but when your around real people your-white-ass changes nicca-to-dude!//
accept it, your ass is afraid-of-a-fude, for fear that you might get discovered, covered in a body-bag left to be identified by your-mother//
this rhyme, you'll never-forget like pot-heads missing a-'blunt'-or-two, damn- you couldn't stad-up-to-me even if i was sitting-infront-of-you!//
master blaster is used to being flashed-by-fags, never flashed-by-mags, its always broke niggas writen' checks they asses-cant-cash//
im leavin' your ass-smashed, stashed in Glad-bag trash bags, head bashed like you forgot to wear your seat-belt in a fatal-car-crash//
even "The End" knows bitch-your-shook, you couldn't get it Hot-in-Herre even if Nelly-did-your-hooks//
im so-hooded, its un-believable, un-conceivable, raps aimed to make this un-edable, an your mission to beat me is titled un-acheivable//
im going to show you how to do-this-son, either use-your-gun or lose-a-lung with your wack-flows im tempted to remove-your-tounge//
just face it cause your a discrase-bitch, im too sick- i'll vomit-in-your-mouth so that you can taste-the-sickness!//
your just a candy-EmCee with arrogance as a shell- infact you ride PROphet's blatant style in hopes to prevail in gettin signed an recevin sales//
im pure-horror, ten-times the evil of any demon in the pits of hell, throwin' venom-tipped needles into the eyelids of truth just to pin-point the fact that as an EmCee... im Hundred-times-that-of-you!//

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LowerTown's Finest