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I’m a lyrical assassin, more deadly than cancer Your rhymes weak like Christmas jingles, you the reindeer Prancer Dancing around my thread like you carry some real vocal weight You can spit 7 of your best rhymes, and you’ll still get 8 By the microphone menace, you need some vocab. spinach I Pop Eyes from my combatants, cause yall don’t got no vision Sissified gangsta you play fight with candy canes I spit teflon slugs to infiltrate your brain That sizzle your cerebellum, homey I blow your mind You a paper plane, I’m NASA, dummy you too far behind This battle is for the intelligent, I’m a hip hop sage No direction, you just a Land Rover, I stay out of your Range You spare change, left on a nasty seat of an MTA bus With no skills to pay the bills, homey you couldn’t buy dust You need a tourniquet to stop the bleedin from when you battle Shakeet I go overkill with my rhymes, my words slicker than sleet Concede defeat or keep getting slaughtered it don’t matter to me I Cross you Over harder than Iverson or EPMD So what you sayin? You really think you that can spit on my level? Homey please, I’m 808 bass, you just pre-school treble
"I'm scientific, but my reflex gangsta"- Black Thought
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