Originally Posted by J.T.S.
My novels are graphic got other writers blocked stuck in traffic..
Take Angelina from Brad quick, ladies love me fuck Mr. Smith..
Got more scripts than Cali got crips, and devil slave masters had whips..
Step back before i flip.. bust ya lips..on some poolballs swinging in a sock shit..
Karate chop cliques..watch their nerves freeze..paralize em like C. reeves..
Emcee's move in the wind.. i call em' sea breeze..they winan like CeCe..
Off the wall grimey flow..so low.. i catch wreck solo..
Flip them widgets I want them digits
Skip the digital give me that mass appeal analog/
Lyrical arsenal spark ya articles write cha bars
Showing eím I can still get nautical wit my nature/
Evade cha like the military regime call me a military machine
Howís cha wisdom when you ainít gain no attention/
Even if Iíve been apprehended
My lyrics will never stop being penned/
Before I die and go to heaven, to see my ending
I want my lyrics to become my weapon of mass destruction/
Iím uplifted and gifted when Iím gear shifting
Spit it wicked cuz Iím sick wit it/
Hold cha horses, put cha tracks on pauses
When ya hear me spit run to the store and get my shit/
Now you got Tech grinding spit out cha spine and
When ya hear ya body tingling migrate to the box
And pump up the volume/
Hear the crowd howling n wolfing
Now we scraping ready to feast/
Iím the under thirty gunner
Hold the weight solider
Flow wit cha brothers/
Leave you wanna beís running for cover
When thunder and lighting coming for ya/