short lines


This is for all the wacc emcees da there king mek, yall get laid down//
Come out the wood work and see saw like playgrounds//
Eat salt and take rounds but all the shots not liquor//
Me losing is like the mailman that did not deliver//
Cuz weather rain, sleet, or snow I bring it quick to your box//
Grab your throat, vocal chords getting twisted in knots//
Spitting or not, I speak truth; it’s proved with my words//
Techniques perfected, I speak the truth cuz it hurts//
You need to know your role cuz that’s all that matters//
If not, you’ll get booed off stage like Broadway actors//
The hardest rappers popping shit can lick the balls//
Cats who scared always talk shit and don’t spit at all//
Foes will get foiled; brute force leaves you underpowered//
With speed that lets me dodge rain drops in thunder showers//
Guns are for fags; I flip scripts quickly to kill a man//
Yall scream, “Oh boy!” But it’s different than Killer Cam//
Empty cups like boozers, grabbing your hoes titties//
You can shine all you want, you’re just mad that you’re no biggie//
I’m handing out blows swiftly to eradicate foes quickly//
My stamina’s so richly blessed to go on forever//
Only place you go is off the stage rolled on a stretcher//
I’ll lay down a hundred, can’t match the sentences spit//
You can’t fit the bill like Franklin’s head was too big//

herb