k chek it.....

ok apearantly dis lab rat deosnt listen very well//
reply in bitch slapped, not post ur battle hope in u catch a nigga... restin arm on rail//
but it dont matter, ima still deconstruct u ta ya lowest form of matter, lyrics bustin out, like cock roaches when the lights come on ya scatter//
whether i frag ya... or jus plain intercept ur verse in transit at the next available transmit//
dis jet's misscle.. heat seakin in.. cant find ur ryhmes cus dey frosted like an eskimo wit out wool-an-knit//
Rappin low decibals, matter of ya brain calculating ur chances inta negative decimals//
better of in da slum makin a livin cleanin out sewer cepticals//
Cus when i bust on a busta's like this i raise up many skeptakles...who claim i bounce on newbs who jus got off there tri-cycles//

but believe me i forseen dis battle from its entirty as a pre-subordinate form of a king or deity//
released ur lyrics u have...but all brought forth be the loss, thus in-curring deep anxiety//
attacks..low heart failure cus u flo'd wit a weak one//
try'd ta use a pacemaker but it only set a pace for slow enough for u to see the un-imaginatable force of lines u must overcome//
time an time an from ya home inta ya hood, ya'll flo wit a game that on Ps2 would never sell//
constantly tryin to break da casing which holds u inevitably within ur shell//
Simplisticly an quite exquisitly...i disposed ur threat an those within its direct proximity//
Str8 out to the full extent of a massacre that will soon be place in an added chapter of da holy wars within da trinity//

next//...