| 02. Reading My Eyes |
| The microphone molester Machete undresser Stupid dope fresh-type shit resurrector Top gun, miramar, best-of-the-bester The leave an emcee peace-in-rester The skill tester, the flex-the-gunner The make-funner, the adversary-make-runner The make summer cold with rhymes I spit And kick gift to lifted delinquent wit I be the prophet My hand - top it Stop it, fly like rocket when I rock it Locked it down with this perverse verse Every fuckin' curse a burst of hurt Move crowds - physical fitness rhymes Cokeheads couldn't do my lines I'm decorated like Christmas pines, my batallion rocks Emcees become silhouettes of chalk Reading my eyes will say it in many ways Losing my pride will save it in many days Hit the dirt, because the words I spit Will do more than just rip your shirt I'll bitch slap your soul Contact the track control You're coming at me, you can't hack it though So ridiculous Watching my crew get sick with this Wickedness Pitching this Lyrical viciousness to crews And cliques made of men and mistresses This is my life The twilight in the fight night And trying to see nothing but the highlights When I write, these eyes on horizons Die for my song Cry rhymes in Krylon Fire on Move men telekinetically Esoterically beat-speaking with clarity Feel my verities, heroism of heresy And sever every emcee I see with severity Reading my eyes will say it in many ways Losing my pride will save it in many days Why not What I came Why not What I came Why not What I came Why not give me what I came to deserve Why not give me what I came to believe Why not give me what I came to deserve Why not give me what I came to believe Reading my eyes will say it in many ways Losing my pride will save it in many days |
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