[Verse 1]
How could I keep my composure?
When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?
Release, then veins in the brains increase
When I let off, make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece
Unloadin', unfold and the rhymes are explodin'
And the mic that I'm holding's golden
Cordless 'cause the wire caught fire like a fuse
Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction
The outcome is near, so listen, here's a brief description:
A boom and flame and smoke, ashes are dust to dust
Contact is compact when I bust
MC's are now in a massacre, a disaster, a master at fashion, I
Beat to death, to a pulp 'til it can't pump
Speakers ain't sayin' nothin', now the ball can thump
As I'm lookin', I stand like brick buildings in Brooklyn
Then the stage is took, then
Havoc struck that could product a holocaust
Keep in touch the mic when you're holdin' yours
Huffin' and puffin' and slobbin' and droolin'
Nothing's pumpin', who do you think ya foolin'?
Tommy Tucker? The neighborhood sucker?
What you oughta do, is pick up a tempo
From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent, so
You start to kidnap, I watch a kid rap
When he get off, he know he shouldn't have did that
Minor, old-timer, weak rhymer, stay in liner
You won't be inclined to go so, yo
Maybe later, you're gonna be
But for now, you're almost one of me
Now, the immature imitation's taken from originations
Made by changin' and a little arrangin'
So, perform, if ya still ain't warm, maybe after a roast
By the host with the most, it's a Musical Massacre
How could I keep my composure?
When all sorts of thoughts fought for exposure?
Release, then veins in the brains increase
When I let off, make a wish and blow the smoke off my piece
Unloadin', unfold and the rhymes are explodin'
And the mic that I'm holding's golden
Cordless 'cause the wire caught fire like a fuse
Gunpowder and the slightest bruise is a friction
The outcome is near, so listen, here's a brief description:
A boom and flame and smoke, ashes are dust to dust
Contact is compact when I bust
MC's are now in a massacre, a disaster, a master at fashion, I
Beat to death, to a pulp 'til it can't pump
Speakers ain't sayin' nothin', now the ball can thump
As I'm lookin', I stand like brick buildings in Brooklyn
Then the stage is took, then
Havoc struck that could product a holocaust
Keep in touch the mic when you're holdin' yours
Huffin' and puffin' and slobbin' and droolin'
Nothing's pumpin', who do you think ya foolin'?
Tommy Tucker? The neighborhood sucker?
What you oughta do, is pick up a tempo
From what I invent, so hard not to bite, but you can't prevent, so
You start to kidnap, I watch a kid rap
When he get off, he know he shouldn't have did that
Minor, old-timer, weak rhymer, stay in liner
You won't be inclined to go so, yo
Maybe later, you're gonna be
But for now, you're almost one of me
Now, the immature imitation's taken from originations
Made by changin' and a little arrangin'
So, perform, if ya still ain't warm, maybe after a roast
By the host with the most, it's a Musical Massacre
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!