biggie got no rhyme scheme messing with this

[the rhyme king]

I walk through the ruggedest blocks
With jewels flooded with rocks
Hustlin' on hot corners that be smuggled with cops
I must warn, my Harlem crew roll strong
Word bond, we leave mics torn,y'all nikkas slept too long now it's on
L Corleone'll never flop, rap style's forever hot
Front on me you better not, I keep the Baretta cocked
I got more papers than a New York Post
Packin' toast, this host is quick to roast a mic then I'm ghost
I'm not a soprano like that Italiano Sammy Gravano
MCs is gettin' knocked off like Paulie Castellano
This little menace be, guzzlin' Hennessy
Props from here to Tennessee, police wanna finish me
I run with cliques, pushin' luxury whips
Who be callin' chicks on Motorola flips, with illegal chips
Don't sleep troop, it's a fact I keep loot
Dime bytches be all over Big L like a cheap suit
The rap veteran, hot beats is the medicine
nikkas'll never win, in a battle, cause I'm better than
Ninety percent o' them, front and death'll be your minimum
The grave is where I'm sendin' 'em, clowns, like Mack 10 and 'em, uh!
I'm from the East Coast, this is how we roll in New York
A bunch of rowdy nikkas holdin' the fort
Jackin' creeps, packin' heat
These Harlem streets is for keeps
Much love to all my peeps who got covered with sheets
And uh, where I be dwellin' at snitches get killed
On the real side, I probably fukked more bytches than Wilt, nikka
In clown hearts I put a lotta fear
One love to Fat Joe and 560 yeah, I'm outta here
Yo McGruff, yo my mellow, my man
Ayo uh, grab the mic and do the best ya can..

 

[Urethra Franklin]

When you die, will your mother even bother to take off work?
Or will she go before you, literally being the first person to die from disappointment?

 

[Big Skilly Films]

suck a rhyme schemes dikk nikka...gtfo with that bullshyt...