Every line of mine-will line ya mind- like land mines-
so when I land mine- and realign- ya spine-
ya mind- won't have time- to rewind -and find a sign-
or trace or design- of the grime- that I spit in my rhymes!
sick in the mind-quick with the lines-
spits' thick- like shit- from the slit- at the tip of ya spine-
liquid with mine- flow so swift it's "da-vine"
Got ya hanging on every last word like it was twine!