This cat be packin raps until the earth's gone.
You flashy while i shine in threads of jet black and herb, tones, gleamin'.
You couldn't make a come up if your voice box were balls and words were semen.
My larnyx is a tech so after i spit it's left steamin.
Chicks screamin, bodies fallin' eclipse light,
I see, 360 degrees of dead emcees creates a soul cipher.
I'm an elite soul sniper.
Hit a movin spirit through a scope of lyrics till bloods gushin' like a geyser.
I dunno what you thought yo, or if you thought yo,
Cause after i talk, you'll be playin' Russian roulette with a cross-bow.
I control, flows, as the moon does the currant.
Your past and i'm the current, sent through your body to burn it.
Ill could get, jig to sway the wig and flip the collar,
cause in a sense, my sixth sense inhales the cents to make dollars.
Take a chick, lay her down, get her down, to get me up.
Hit her now then get her stuff,
Cuff her now then get her snuffed.
I'm so hot that Satan touched me and his hands blistered up.
Yet i stay cool.
You stay hungry for skill and i stay full.
I lick shots, my tongue's a spray tool, to spray clocks
Emcee's are butts, so when I eat em, am i tossin salad? i hope not.
Set a pager on the same stage? you better hope not,
Cause with the same rate your glock clocker I'll blow spots and the show stops.
Chorus