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It's tragic syllabicdivinity is in the vicinity of me Should've wore protection, won't be resurrection cuz the only Trinity I see Is 3 to the dome, 3 broken bones, 3 blasts and 3 smokin' homes 3rd round, 3 seconds left, but you need more than a 3 to even the score that is shown 3 syllables: deleted, defeated, depleted, runner-up Your strategy is to read my rhyme then just repeat it, what the fuck? So go to the degree of trying to flip '3' on me That'll make you the 245,678,910th fallen MC Ain't no way around it, you've been pounded to the ground kid 16 MCs, 4 rounds, and just 1 nigga got you surrounded But fuck the numbers, I clowned it, judges want the punchlines But while Glass Joe is jabbin', Spread is stabbin', don't nobody want mine Like orphans, survivors of abortions and leftover chitlin' portions But wait! I'm morphing from negativity to releasing endorphines Brawny-like absorption of flows that spill prematurely Cum out the gun in round one, but you will never kill me early I'm burly like dykes with chili bowls and firearms You'll run this shit when 3-6 mafia starts singin' choir songs I'll bury you with slugs and worms then I'm off to fly with birds Fooled you with the way I'm blowin' up today, it's only July the 3rd I hold it down with independence kid, you're dope every twenty sentances They say spontneous human combustion is rare, but I could show you plenty instances Like every time I bless the mic, I'm hotter than summertime nutsack Since you like football so much, I'll kick it to you, better off taking the touchback cuz I got you in the Endzone
yep
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