Your music dead
like your fuckin' label
rappin' nothing but fabels
I power slam you through
a table.
Now I'm willin' and able
to bring you to your death
my souls unrest but
the truth I undress
and I ain't got to wear
the vest cuz your
nothing but talk
and if you talk to much
I'll have you lying in the chalk!
and guess what?
I give a fuck bout your family
I thought they where blessin' me
but I guess your hatered was the receipe
you brought out the best in me
You say I ain't that good
well look my tech 9 sayin' I am SO What!
DROP tha glock you ain't got time to cock.
stab me in da back and I'll murda you
wit an axe to the face
you got blood all over tha place
as you frolic in your own waste
your rythmes soundin' like mace
as your mumbling to the tape.
ONE MORE THING I GOTS TO SAY!
This is SYANIDE, MUTHAFUCKA'S
puttin' you in your place.
rap was written bout the old rap label I used to rap under. But left me cuz I side with a friend Insane D. Hate works sometimes.
Let me know what ya think... Good or Bad.
That what makes me better.
Remember you don't have the music yet. So it may sound out of place, but you know.
