the truth is that everything that's not a dream is useless/
to me, mixing feelings bringing abusive sprees to public ease/
hating the rhyme state stating that a rapper is the thing to be/
making the normally normal supporting abnormal again, "oh no he's gotten outta bed"/
no need to get formal, but let me outta my pen/
creating my world out of bits of yours is my chore, don't fight it/
it makes me more cold to the core, so learn this, your life ain't how you type it/
i wanna OD on prozac and valium then maybe i wouldn't rap like this/
i wouldn't act like shit in public, pass the pills and water, let's get off the subject/
never again to speak of it, make life a $4.20 an hour job and not love it/
whoever beefs can take their shit and shove it back to its origin/
so tank'em, go find some foreign men and yank'em sore again/
and again till you can't handle it/
then come see me for a platinum fist/
bitch, shut up, you can go ahead and babble shit, eat rhymes? you're ass is still anorexic/

with a bottle of pills i'm on the highest level with bottom skills/
droppin' ill like stoppin' jack from fucking jill/
plausible still? the steel killin' from the mic's iron grill/
the stage my cage, "Do Not Touch", i don't bite but i will/

i'm the professor, a mad agressor with less shit accepted under this pressure/
writing "dear sally letters" with "fuck you slut" as the header/
heading headless killing rappers who knew better/
not to try and out flow this skull with as many bones that i tote/
or up show my boat in as much spit that i've spoke/
or provoke my soul to actually busting the yoke.../
of my eggheadedness, but i know i'ma be regrettin' this.../
fuck you illrhymephonetic, fuck you tank'em, fuck you whitepac, don't edit shit/
but to my hate, i gotta give it to sleepers, they credit this/
and to the ill, my true family, L.L.I. the rhyme edifice/

with a bottle of pills i'm on the highest level with bottom skills/
droppin' ill like stoppin' jack from fucking jill/
plausible still? the steel killin' from the mic's iron grill/
the stage my cage, "Do Not Touch", i don't bite but i will/(echos into silent popping of the 12")


this better not touch the 2nd page

peace


signed,
~professor

i'm the professor, a mad agressor with less shit accepted under this pressure/
writing "dear sally letters" with "fuck you slut" as the header/

god i hate that sally jesse rapheal bitch^^ good lines, came off like a battle verse and a pretty tight one at that. some really solid punches and imagery.

keep posting.

Yo i felt this joint right here.

nice shyt my homie keep em commin some nice shyt goin fa ya
~1~

__________________
Authentik Intelligence,
` Nuff Said.

havn't seen him in awhile

ever since he posted somethin' bout me

this shit was tight

i like how you use your words

~1~

yo man that was ill but not as nice as myne take a look....
yo i flow make you go//
uh oh, fa sho ya kno//
d-luxx kill all you fucks//
dirty mucks and all u pre-fux//


ILL MAN ILLEST IVE DONE

that was ill dawg, give me your home address so i can forget my tour and sign you onto my label!

yo man im at 110 23 washington drive holla man

HOT LIL SOMETHING NO DOUBT I LIKED THIS PEACE

upping for the eyes of the wack few

yo tis piece was ill liked all tha lines keep it up

__________________
67-30-46 combined overall on rb


keep lethal in thy beatin heart/
let thy tactix slip life falls apart/


vote on