Friday, January 22, 2010

The truth.

I attack on wax, countless mic checks, flex texts,
stack like bricks, stash like chips, the props the main issue,
rhyming about drops and yachts, not me to diss you,
keeping it real the raw deal, four wheeling the sub urbs,
some people high of bubbly and herbs,
feeling all right, battle tight, never snake you,
there are enough fake dudes are around, I will break you,
like a b-boy, fly ladies smooth,

I give you the truth, not rude it is bitter,
my moves are like a game of chess, I have never been a quitter,
the lines spitter, out to make hits, no doubt never fake sick,
I take cake and make way now,
stakes are high, guns pop, I get props, rock spots, from the corners,
to the docks, pumping LOX, into deep with sharks,

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