Quote:
Originally posted by Socks
There's two type of emcees
Those that wanna face me get hacked and fail
And those that have faced me can await a rematch in hell
My vocal tones pipe bomb your face in
Hold your own? You have trouble holding conversations
You're left with little to no air
Duct tape your mouth
Leave you upside down in the middle of nowhere
Shine like rays of sun. My brain's a gun
What you're tryin to say in six bars I can explain in one
It's obvious my skull weighs a ton
Over a billion gigabytes I download information from
I'll pelt you clowns. Ugly as fuck plus timid
Then melt you down and reconstruct y'all in my image
I ain't spittin if the track ain't hard hittin
I don't care if Premier, Mu Tao or Mozart did it
I'm deep with a fistful of satire
It's this type of trajectory that makes heat seeking missles backfire
I show love to troops that I bomb
By givin hugs to crews with nuclear arms
I'm like Chuck Manson on tape
My choruses are me givin my victims a chance to escape
The raw phantom without a champion jaw is here to scar
your soft patterns with adamantium claws
My mic will make your nerves ache
Me comin off ain't the issue
I wasn't screwed on right in the first place
--copywrite. What's not to like.
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this is a great illustration of why I don't like most rap. . . that's a bunch of lyric, might even be a whole song that is nothing more than bragging about how great you are. . . give me Kurt Cobain anyday. . . at least he ended it before he made himself looks like a fool.