i replied too:
Shit On YOU! Papa J
Warlords Diss Hot!! beatle juice
The Mind Is My Prison N-Demik

Shock Value

verse one:

Torn runnin toward shunned dreams/
My Breathin contorts asthma force lungs to cling/
Dummies need ta hold ya spleens, or buckle ya belts up tight/
Cause if ya think from tha left, brace yourself to get stumped right/
And Ima get felt like an adrenaline rush/
I push brains in ta tha guts guttin ya hunch /
With the mic after I pop the clutch /
And Trust that I can’t dilute lyrics much/
Not overheatin but I stay hot enough/
To just burn the ash off tha Dutch/
Its like I cough exstasy up/
Cause you cats gon’ get touched/
Until I bump off these menial competitors/
With the brawn of mythical minotaurs/
And Ima persist as a lyrical offender/
Until I elicit goose bumps in local listeners/
Until the plasma seethes up/
As tha beat goes thump/
Until you drink the lyrics up/
And hiccup the gist of it up/
Ya’ll niggas said what? Ya’ll niggas is nuts/
Cause I drop heat on tha lugz like cigarette butts/
These bitches don’t know my style switches/
Similar to bisexual disposition when Im in competition/
Lets get it straightened
My shock tactics inflicts these apathetic masses/
Similar to sporadic bullets blasted from semi-automatics/
I’m like electrified eels you can’t touch the skill/
You think you hard ha! better bring the viagra pills/
I’m Not from Chicago but I stay Ill/
Ha! And that Noise you’d better kill/
Cause no common sense will/
Make my blood spill on the battlefield/

verse two:

Diggin in the crates to acquire the taste of mass appeal/
Rig the ones who hate who can neva penetrate the energy field/
Of vessels of the real I don’t represent no fuckin thug/
No record deal wont have me endorsin guns/
To me Hip-Hop plays the golden gun to stun/
And Mics are the slugs shockin the body numb/
Yes the Fifth Element has come/
Bringin diversity to the hip hop nation/
So Why pay lump sums to stray from abstinent ways/
When I can burn you out like ya do spliffs on ashtrays/
Cause niggas mince the brain with rat poison to cloak dismay/
Black mind states remain in the labyrinth of malaise/
While Verbally I sodomize the pitiful minds/
Of those inclined to touch mic devices with the likes of mine/
Its time and All I need is one stand and a spotlight/
One hand and one mic to rock the spot right/
And like assholes doin jail time Ima keep it tight/
And I don’t like to waist time even if for a minute/
When ya finished ya finished so my intention/
In the 30 sec time limit Is to disfigure ya from waist-line to tendon/
and splendor at how I dismember the fruits of ya labor/
By lyrically blendin em limber like blades in a blender/
Remember many presume you are what you eat/
So if I consume the pick of the liter what does that make me/