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I hear your music playin’ in the background
Wack sounds barked out by your bitch-ass pack hounds
Back down, dog, before I bring the smack down
Act clown and you’re sure to get your back browned
Like your name was Sam, but I’m the son of
Gun of, run of this town like Willie Horton
Burnin’ off slugs like I was made by Morton’s
Sortin’ out motherfuckers always shortin’
Bringin’ you five mics, but where my change at?
You, Rover, over there – now where the range at?
Dirty dog, you got shots, so where your mange at?
Deranged dingbat, sing that, ‘cause you can’t rap it
My tricks ain’t for kids, you silly fuckin’ rabbit
Grab it, nab it, I retrieve it and rehab it
Sabotage of the rhymes becomes a habit
Won’t wait ‘til Monday, I roll on the Shabbat
Day of rest but I’m blessed ‘cause I’m arrestin’
MCs like McCloud, with loud protestin’
Bite my rhymes, they’ll give you indigestion
Talkin’ out your ass like rap Olestrin
Lesser men than you have tried to test me
Bad touch much? Your mic cannot molest me
Don’t get testy, you’re no scientist, see?
Don’t get chesty, my rhymes will soothe your breast, see?
Lest we forget, you’ll get what you came for
What you’ll take will make you say my name for
Hours after I make you show your shame for
Tellin’ lies that I am not to blame for
If you had one peel of real upon your body
You’d know my flow like Kelly knew karate
Ante up, throw panties, all you hotties
Layin’ pipe like I was Rowdy Roddy


Oct. 19th, 2007 04:55 pm (UTC)
Don't let your mouth write checks if your style can't pay for it
I'll shiv you prison style, three times and walk away from it
It's played on it; but my style, you can play on it
If the cops knew how dope I was, they'd stage a raid on it
I'm a material witness to the death of your career
With immunity from prosecution as long as I'm standing here
Testifying into the mic to each one of your crimes
Adding ten years to your sentence with each one of my lines
You've got no lyrics, no heart; you've got no stories to tell
You act like you're 50 Cent; say hello to Stringer Bell
Pushing the hottest rhymes like most cats move product
Chicks jonesing at the stage 'cause they know that I've got it
The feds tap my studio; they think I've gone soft
But I've switched up their signals with my friends in the l0pht
You want my game like your teenaged self wanted Lara Croft
But I'm in the back with Vivica, about to Set It Off.
Oct. 19th, 2007 08:52 pm (UTC)
My mouth don’t write no checks – it’s strictly cash business
And I’ll never go to court, ‘cause you can’t get a witness
Take the stand ‘cause I’m questioning your mental fitness
I ship gold with every single, you’re strictly hit and miss
And I think I’ll call you miss, ‘cause you rap like Heidi
I’m a Shaolin shadowboxer, you’re tighty whities
I’ma soar above this shit white you just actin’ flighty
You use chewed-up rhymes, that’s why they call you Bitey
Maybe I’ll call you Dr. Doomed, ‘cause your demise is certain
Your raps is all monkey, call you MC Merton
I can’t make no stew out of the beef you’re blurtin’
Maybe I’ll call you English Patient, ‘cause your language hurtin’
Stand back, I’ll show you what the mic is for
Watch, I block your shots like I was Okafor
You do odd jobs; me, I do pussy galore
Yeah, you Stringer Bell – dead on the warehouse floor
Oct. 22nd, 2007 01:47 pm (UTC)
it's my own fault, really
dude, you (inadvertently) spoiled The Wire for me (I've only seen through Season 2). I have been shamed and silenced.
Oct. 22nd, 2007 02:13 pm (UTC)
Re: it's my own fault, really
Oh, man, CHUMP.
Oct. 22nd, 2007 02:14 pm (UTC)
Re: it's my own fault, really
Next time, Gadget ... next time! MUHUHAHAHAHA!

(oh man, now I really want an Inspectah Gadjit / Dr. C.L.A.W.* freestyle rapbattle)

* Cash Livin' Around da World
Oct. 22nd, 2007 05:01 pm (UTC)
Re: it's my own fault, really
Oct. 22nd, 2007 05:30 pm (UTC)
Re: it's my own fault, really
Oh, but he got some details wrong, so t's not comPLETEly spoiled. :)
Oct. 19th, 2007 04:59 pm (UTC)
Okay, I demand to see a list of all prominent rappers who've employed "sabbat" as a rhyme prior to this moment.
Oct. 19th, 2007 05:16 pm (UTC)
I'm breaking new ground, baby. Although possibly Matisyahu might have beat me there.
Oct. 20th, 2007 09:41 pm (UTC)
Thanks you


flavored with age
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
Ludic Log


Leonard Pierce is a freelance writer wandering around Texas with no sleep or sense of direction. If you give him money he will write something for you. If you are nice to him he may come to your house and get drunk.

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