the rhyme king
truth.com
i got gza that boy be spitting fire on tracks.
Fake nikkaz get flipped
In mic fights I swing swords and cut clown
shyt is too swift to bite you record and write it down
I flow like the blood on a murder scene, like a syringe
On some wild out shyt, to insert a fiend
But it was yo out the shop stolen art
Catch a swollen heart from not rollin smart
I put mad pressure, on phony wack rhymes that get hurt
shyt's played, like zodiac signs on sweatshirt
That's minimum, and feminine like sandals
My minimum table stacks a verse on a gamble
Energy is felt once the cards are dealt
With the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts
That attack, the mic-fones like cyclones or typhoon
I represent from midnight to high noon
I don't waste ink, nikka I think
I drop megaton bombs more faster than you blink
Cause rhyme thoughts travel at a tremendous speed
Clouds of smoke, of natural blends of weed
Only under one circumstance is if I'm blunted
Turn that shyt up, my clan in da front want it
Fake nikkaz get flipped
In mic fights I swing swords and cut clown
shyt is too swift to bite you record and write it down
I flow like the blood on a murder scene, like a syringe
On some wild out shyt, to insert a fiend
But it was yo out the shop stolen art
Catch a swollen heart from not rollin smart
I put mad pressure, on phony wack rhymes that get hurt
shyt's played, like zodiac signs on sweatshirt
That's minimum, and feminine like sandals
My minimum table stacks a verse on a gamble
Energy is felt once the cards are dealt
With the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts
That attack, the mic-fones like cyclones or typhoon
I represent from midnight to high noon
I don't waste ink, nikka I think
I drop megaton bombs more faster than you blink
Cause rhyme thoughts travel at a tremendous speed
Clouds of smoke, of natural blends of weed
Only under one circumstance is if I'm blunted
Turn that shyt up, my clan in da front want it
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