Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Keep hating.

If you keep hating my people, there would be,
no ground for you to stand on, use to rock,
South Pole pants, my mind state is hands on,
grand slams and now chicks want me like Uncle Sam,
land on tropical Islands, zoning from mid night,
to the early morn, known corn in plain form,
off the dome songs, cats sniff out there nose bone,
crap they into, They ain't being through the half,
what I have being through, I ain't rude, but do not test me.

The best be hot, you doubt you are sick,
the slick formatted dope raps for gold plaques,
I ball black, tight like a fitted,
hype like I am entrance, now rappers physic,
I pray to the God of Israelites, pistols blow,
my mic is loaded with vocals like a scud,
the ruff sounds, the brown skin kid keeps it real.

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