if we could treat one Another as Brothers it would Rupture their Structure
I Must Work to make sure their treasons uncovered tha rhymes I Mutter
spit and Sputter makes sure fakes are Traumatised no one really Wants Ta Die
I'm a master of lyrical Homicide, 187 records, yeah my crew is On Tha Rise
similar to mercury on a Hot Day my Shots Spray at tha enemy my Thoughts Hate
happy I Got Plays this revolutionary style will Not Fade I grind like a Saw Blade
amongst tha Many I'm not one to Envy an MC but as far as lines I've got Plenty
my brain is far from Empty most of tha time I'm Friendly unless yur trying to End Me
then I'll score a Battlefield Win like I Have No Feelings just a Numb Core
ready to drop One More I'm not running From War yur error was Unforced