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I'm a lyrical psycho where failure's not an option
Like Batemen playin the beat before you know he get to choppin
Off with your head with the weapon as my pen
With Mr Brown's harmonics placing me into my zen
Again, so give it up for the ones they call SWIGFU
Who?!? The ones on the mics those funny looking dudes
the track they had about dem *** the sick and vicious lyrics they use
Not ask forgiveness to whatever they would say or do
We speak freely I mean really let's get busy
Sparkin up that philly Come on pass it back to Jimmy
We got plenty of rhymes to go ahead and feed the city
Enough raps to psyche you out, leaving u sitting pretty
Now it's time, it's time for me to clarify and justify my mission
as an Emcee attending competitions
It's a win or lose battle status in vertical position
Cause Hip Hop is not a obligation, yo its a religion
This is holy matrimoni even though you do not know me yet
Glory to the gory areolas from the Orient
with fast raps scratch that yo I'm slowin it
no need to be rushin when i ain't livin in the Soviet
all by lonesome ya'll don't owe me ***
just pay me back with a couple of hoes gropin my Moby ***
an ego boost and they be strokin it
cuz I'm more potent than a poet laureate soakin in opiates
now hit the deck let's interject with my intellect
come along and battle i'll overshadow your silhouette
step up to the throne you'll get overthrown slowly microphone controller persona consoling phonies
they really want me to belittle all my mini-mes
you're not forgiven for spittin silly soliloquies
they steady writing that balogney quick
just for A Fistful Of Dollars Like a Sergio Leone flick
don't try to figure out the psudonym and moniker
movin to the music and groovin they took a shot at ya
blowin the harmonica we're listenin to sad blues
Ay yo Brown why don't you hit em with the Bad News....