Best Rapper Alive.

October 6, 2007

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My niggas got scarred grills, skully hats and gats be fullies
Brrat, cars peel, the east coast cartel
Rats get they tail snapped and trapped
It’s snitches in the streets and it’s snitches in rap
Pure euphoria, a dose of death to all of ya
Coroner choruses, sung from the Bridge to Astoria
Dreams of fallin’ in a elevator passin’ floors
Suddenly stop, the doors open up to a brick wall
I can smell the haters, wishful thinkers, bad luck prayers
Picture ya tarot cards and bodyguards gettin’ sprayed up
Sabotagin’ my make-up, my watches get laced up
Even if they indited Jacob
Forensics, paramedics, carry cowards off
Defribilator shock to ya chest, try to cough
They die and hit Hell from a iron
I’m fly in YSL, I’m paid from this shit
Got bitches high as Hell and they fuckin’ like AIDS don’t exist
They get sent to ya hotel or made in this shit
Put a barrel in the capo mouth, ’til his scalp come out
You a kid, you don’t live what you rap about
King poetic, too many haters to count
Too much paper to count, QB bitch.

shame about his output.
‘money over bullshit’ is the best pure rap song in 3 years.

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