ok this is just a lil drop, didnt really spend hardly any time on it...just felt like dropping something....no set topic to it, just was goin with it.....was made to the 'what happend to that boy beat'....so peep it and leave some feedback...also if you got something you want me to look over leave a link and i'll hit it up...



yea, what happened to that boy, fucka got merked
by the disturbed zombie that emerged from the dirt
intertwine the mind with rhymes that disturb a corpse
contain graphic things that derange the brain with brute force
so the lesson, is i stay packing a verbal smith n wesson
blessed with weapons that'll leave ya body up in sections
my lines combined with nines, tear through an emcees spine
check the design, strange with the rhyme, bars cloud ya mind
disturbed and deadly, words are heavy, composing dope medleys
impose the flow untill it takes control, STOP, it just wont let me
tackle and shackle ya ass with my milestone performances
flow comes storming in, with the gust of a cyclones enormous winds
its magical the way i drop my magnificent manifesto
cock and let go, outta ya range, "i cant connect yo"
i resonate residue that resembles nuclear reactors
remain forceful, why ya'll old news like washed up actors
i've rendered a verdict, so ya bitches surrender ya purses
dismemberment and murder, i'll injury ya cervix on purpose
spontaneously combustible with rhymes that clutch ya throat
hang you from a 'cliff', and no i'm not talking bout a 'huxtable'
i should come with an illness warning, brilliance that remains dormant
hate and torment, stay with inside knowledge like a government informant
imprint my incomprehensible impressions into ya brains bedding
performing lyrical beheadings, got you outta ya skin just like a snake shedding
my ill imagery, mixed with my verbal symmetry, will merk any enemy
diss everyone, even a friend of me, u understand, u comprehending me?
dont get confused, sit back kick off ya shoes, and get ready for illness
i know you feel this, my sixth sense is a sick sense, call me bruce willis
forceps and scalpels, guns and house shoes, i'll beat the shit out you
say what i want, dont give a fuck, i'll never 'coat it', i'm not a 'capsule'
so brrrrrrrrrrrrr, leave you froze like the dead of winter when its 20 below
with 20 inches of snow, ripped this beat, with just my free, what the fuck i need a hook fo yo....



hit me up with some feedback