Collateral Damage Phathom (Rap) (Ft. Canibus, Chino XL & Crooked I)

[Verse 1: Phathom]
Metaphor mastery, microphone battery
I'll leave crews looking like high school tragedies
Spitting emphatically, I get verbally raw
Then telekinetically fry any circuitry board
Don't piss me off it will be your loss
I'll expload like the Incredible Hulk's forearms
Look, I'mma straight test the spark
I'll punch your chest so hard your spine will look like a question mark
Compress your heart get ankles fractured
I alleviate more ink than tattoos covering gangster rappers
Face factors front like you had doubts
Get your chest caved in to make your spine stand out
Buckle up dog, I crush dummies
I'm so ill when I sneeze bacteria runs from me
Bust ugly, I got visions to win
You couldn't get the crowd to get up like impotent men

[Verse 2: Chino XL]
Yo nigga what, what, what, the real meaning of what
What's the last question I ask before I fuck your ass up?
You swimming in blood like Johnny Weissmuller pretending Tarzan
Verbal battering ram without Brad Pitt in Troy
Your Achilles tendon is not defending the honor to follow up
One of my verses is strong enough after I spit
Shit, you don't pack inadequate axe to get swung
We ain't laughing with you
We laughing at you like William Hung
Come, get dragged into the tormenting
Morbid twister world of hurt
Paralyzed from the eyebrows down
Wishing that you were never birthed
Breathing dirt, flowers growing out of your nostrils
Apostle, running full throttle, squeezing the trigger, aiming the nozzle
The barrel hotter than flanel in the Mohabe or safari
Shells tearing your body, shooting the saddle from your kemosabe
Understand me? sabe?
I make money like Ronald Reagan's ressurected back in office and it's 1980
If you mad, say you mad
You'll be the man who had one rhyme for every 80 rhymes Poison Pen has
I'm incapable of writing anything other than ill
Chino: Tarantino skill
Sicker than eighty volumes of Kill Bill