My battle style goes like death stroke hitting long shots in Tokyo , here we go, you can still smell the gun smoke, as a few more bars start to flow, dont you know? I can spit off the dome? You run on explorer im chrome, strapped with enough punchlines to send a whole label home ,crying, too much i have been through i aint lying, im not done fightin, your still standing here taking a beating, you more defiant than iam, call me buddah i keep you enlightened, not even thinikin as im writting, more valuable then what the president arrives in, messing with me is not under advisement, ill call you out, make you my advertisement, swallow you whole like an appetizer, leave a hater missing with none the wiser
Spit fire automatic , leaves em dead so tragic, i got a bad habit, of bagging bodies and toe taggin trouble causing maggets, make these problem emcees vanish like magic, slugs make them sing higher than Chris Kirkpatrick, got that game n synch, that pain i bring instantly, i gotta come back eventually, the mic needs me, like a billionaire needs a new Bentley