Let them feel it.

It's the ES.

Take a deep breath, deep death.

Vocals eat flesh, like mash Puttin' holes up in your weak chest You must check this

I'll take your necklace Leave you necklace Respect this It's back to the basics

I come through in an A6.

You come through an A6.

Not the real one, it's the fake shit.

I didn't know they made them.

You couldn't spit a death rhyme if you spit mine verbatim.

Tanelag flank with the fattest bank.

Lately, all I do is rip cruz, sip booze, and hit snooze, and stay fuckin' with bitches and whip cues.

Fuck around with this kid to catch the quick moves.

You make about as much sense spitting your venom as a cotton sweatshirt that says Nautica denim.

Break them off, seven.

Like I said before, when the rhyme sign to unsign them, please get done.

Like I said before, representing hardcore.

I rap it in an assertive way.

Crack your vertebrae.

It's spittin' sweet 16s against your birthday.

I roll green like Jimmy Cliff, but never hit the split.

The shit I spit'll put your whip in a fit.

Straight airing out cats like doormats.

I've been underground longer than these Civil War cats.

My closet.

Looks like I have five brothers, cause everything I have, yo, I have in five colors.

Raps in pair your brain, clear the lane, like I'm an aeroplane, I put the fare in the game.

Got the deafest cats out there, hearing my name.

Rockin' raincoats, too nice to wear in the rain.

I cracked your commercial wax over your head, now you're got a jagged edge.

Motherfuck Battlin' Cats, I'm Jim Abbott and cats.

Mean single-handedly, I'm embarrassed cats.

Like I said before, when the bomb's signed, the unsigned MCs get done.

Like I said before, I represent hardcore.

I grab the mic like I'm the rightful owner.

Then proceed to heat it up like an isotona.

That's the deal.

I'm dappin' like O'Neal.

Give a touchy motherfuckin' somethin' they can feel.

For real.

Quit staying, you rip-wax.

The only thing you busting is the table that you get jacked up with facts.

Like a Rolodex, and hold my text like a two-way.

Barely seen like a blue jay.

It's the new shade, a new day when your skull snaps.

For kicking dough raps, I spit an acapella for your friends, cuz.

They give up more shit to sample than the KPM does.

Yeah, shit's been gritty ever since Funky Fresh was Spin City.

You'd sound whack if Molly Mott reduced you.

And I've been listening since juice crew was new school.

Like I said before, when a bomb's signed, the unsigned MCs get done.

Like I...

Like I said before, represent hardcore.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Face to feet.

To the S. Spit the rhyme.

My man Vinny passed up in here.

You know the deal.

Stock long.

My man T-Sun, get a man.