Lyrical bomb spit.

My rhymes are sick like it is out of a Vietnam flick,
the Asiatic calm kid got lyrical bomb spit,
the hard hits I present invent and set trend,
with the hype flows, the for sure blow, and you know,
the style that is untouched, the roughness no bluffing,
split a Dutch and watch how I rhyme great raps designed,
check out the whole nine, so fine.

Check the dope sounds from the underground, while you wonder how,
I bring the thunder, now, gats spit like blauw, and I admit that I can spit,
the hype flows to show how this should be done,
I am not the one to clown around,
the glow of my chain is blinking,
just link and sink in your thoughts,

Ill rhyme patterns.

The brown skin king to drop poems off the dome,
crown me, do not clown me, I am down, get busy,
bring the sound kid, from the underworld, No bid,
get rid of snitches, we all got eyes on riches,
many ended up in ditches, money is the root of all evil like witches,
I am not rude at all, step correct when you approach me,
foes frozen I roast you with toast,
ghost you with poems, it is known like flavour of prawn,
do the dirt by my lone some, act grown and mind your tone, son.

grammar sling the thug thing, the rapping ritual of superior spiritual,
witness the slickness, the remedy for the sickness,
the convo is thick, betting not or sweating,
the ill rhyme patterns, form here to Manhattan,
fly ladies in satin

Soul and mind combine.

I be at the coast, catching a sun tan,
no sweaters or heaters needed, not getting drunk,
or weeded, I serve rappers in a hurry like rice and curry,
vision never blurry, Use to rock South Pole pants and understanding,
of this Asiatic kid is advanced, dance to smooth tunes under the moonlight,
set the mood right, rhymes I shine with,
soul and mind combine, I see people fine dine,
I represent the whole nine, always something fresh to rap,

Smooth stepper, the brass drinking loud mouth story teller,
slick raps for everybody, I sling no shotty,
thugs crime like Gotti, rocking the party,
no one can stop me, do not care if you know karate,
my raps goes click clack what I am a paparazzi?

The divine glock nine called rap.

Eyes on the ocean view, sun tan lotion,
for my skin, and I begin with ill sentences,
deeper than Rollie and a Benz mind state,
I stay laced with dopest beats and spit,
in a hype, the type you never seen before,
you need to explore all about the Asian,
It is not all about paper chasing,
Destroy Satan, with the divine glock nine,
called rap, the metaphorically all that,
fall back you fools, I represent the Now school,

You Rainman, eating swine and cause you know the girl next door,
thinking you are playing man, I am slain ehh, you laim ass,
this rap no politics of scholar ships, streets are involved,
so guns blow, sons run though, stay where you be at,
rats can not step in a dope manner, smell the gunpowder of smoking hammers,
the dope rap kid holding down the nation, PraShawn snap your neck like prawn dome,
no more home grown.

I got rhymes.

Word up, I see murder plots and cats that gets knocked,
Blocks with crack spots, I got rhymes and beats for the street to rock,
I talk no bull shit, ill raps that spit like a full clip,
the scripts are written to be hitting with freestyles,
in mean while sit back and watch, pop some scotch,
check out top notch hip hop, out to get props,

lyricism for heads to check, I wreck and rip with styles,
word to God I got to eat, It ain’t sweet,
I do not talk the talk if I can not walk to the beats,
My raps is the truth, metaphors are real,
Euphoric dope raps you can explore like the core of art of war,
I got to flow, for a higher cause I work without a pause,

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,

I witness.

Can not be stopped, the lyrics form like the articles,
the chronical, punch lines fly till it is bed time,
form here to Kuwait, I move my muscles and flex,
hop out of the whip, bomb graffiti text,
this kid cool and calm, I am a grown man with plans,
under the full moon to dope tunes and beats, soon I return,
to earn to burn, never turn my back on my people,
for instance I witness lots of snitching,
striking distance with those oppose the frozen cold flow,
in motion like a flick, ill poetry, grooves too slick,

The individual is the murder raps slinger, the gutter butter,
ill formatted dope rhyme thinker, never stutter,
in another words I am narcotics type of lines inker,
bragging boasting is the daily ritual,
tagging, tongue tosses and turns, of course the bosses max in flavour,
cross waters and borders for paper, thugs dream about chips,
grip the microphone and zone from midnight till the early morn,
sling for cheddar, word is bond.