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View Full Version : Half Ya Weak


SHEEPISH LORD OF CHAOS
07-06-2010, 01:43 AM
Don't give a rats, spit cha blap my claps be cracks for your rocks
my time is on time when ripping I spit pure ether leave you in the furniture/
you ain't dusting with words I'm bustling through darts like I'm stuck in traffic
hustling flows in ciphers thinking you can just write it and repeat it
so if you still wrestling with beats I can just complete it, leave you in a flash/
I'm the Best Even Now aka The Spit's Berg Cannibal spit it fast woot woot
flip your down the drain leave you strangled and in pain from the games you play/
open the flood gates you can wait just second
I'm playing PlayStation create cha save you can't be saved/
get cha self “Johnny Cage” cuz you ain't phasing me
your “Mortal Kombat” was just Morpheus, all bullshit/
you ain't crap your agent sucks as bad as Ken's from Street Fighter
trotting the world ten times in a week think you hit cha peak/
watch me wreck beats without a feature then don't give you a future
don't be putrid as hate fated awaken lessen you like non-sizzling bacon/
you can sleep through beats, then stay counting sheep
I don't peep shit that makes me weak or doesn't challenge me the least/
you ain't Sheep I'm the L-O-C-S deadly when I get stressed
that's when thoughts I've repressed get's addressed and dismissed/
dismantle this you ain't jaded to the threats I erase you like an old text message
your can half court press it my defenses will triangle choke ya like the LA Lakers/


don't get hacked and slashed if you wasn't playing half the game
when it's half of my name, half the shame, half the lames left on wax


Buck you show Walters my flow never ever alters
just under the sun cold beer, that never runs I give you chances
now take them bullets and start dancing/
ever spit with a lyricist in the pale moon light
I'm the jokester spit hot fire like Dylan on Chappelle Skit/
stoic ill cloned blown backs strapped lines cut spines
strike minds with knights come with something else kid/
optimize smacks when down the lines touches get cha spine
draft cha bat, watch them get tackled and sacked/
propagate the emancipation proclaiming a nation before creating
blood soaked dreams kitted up schemes from the shop in my teens/
checking for beans got stalked by the myth machine
busted a regime goodwill got hunted now I'm clover-field stunting/
cop you chopper west coast dandy pop lock and rocket
pick pocket you eye sockets mock you double lockets/
heat infested rhymes I under dressed them
pull skeltons like the masters of the universe defeated skeletor/
punt you sucker emcees trying to tangle with Sheep
deep as the fate grasped onto cold as the icy touch you handle/


don't get hacked and slashed if you wasn't playing half the game
when it's half of my name, half the shame, half the lames left on wax