, the status quotient. Brought up to peak broadcast emotion. As calculated as the news is. At least you've got yourself impressed. Appropriated, the concepts you boast. You love the sound of your own
civilized. Was robbed of its riches, it's freedom, it's pride When it's time for a change concepts rearrange. Now can't you feel my rage. Well, it's up to you to seek the truth To know your history. The
concepts muddy and tripe. That all that is large and all that is slight. Is flowing in the stream of holy floodlights. Writing holy books, lord knows they bite. If this is your will in my testament. I
. You ain't advanced enough to process potential for medical concepts. The objects are foreign, like block tests, arts, and ***. Are complex regardless of your finesse and your fitness. It's a condition
the mic. So let me entertain you. . Eminem. My lyrical content is constantly under fire. No wonder why I constantly bomb back. To combat attacks with constant concepts. When lyrics are constantly
). Rock six seven eight nine ten (to eleven ta). Knew my style got more powers than Cocoon. Zoom your focus, I drop the mic and leave it smokin. When I'm vexed, my concepts Wreck like Effect. I'm robbin
stagnant, need to progress and grow. (Uh, uh). Upgrade your punchlines, progress the flow. (Uh, uh) Get your concepts and lyrics together, aiyyo. (Uh, uh). Then drop the bomb * to step up the
. . I'm lettin' my drug kick in. It controls my mouth and I begin. To just let it flow, let my concepts go. My posse's to the side yellin', Go Vanilla Go!. . Smooth 'cause that's the way I will be
was cock it and shoot MC's being cocky and rude. Then I moved to some deep concepts in my tunes. Monitor my brain waves. Tell me if I'm crazed but I think the games changed And MC's are opening doors
Pharcyde song, and that b*tch just passes by. So I, got lyrically complex, that way I could clock checks. Get my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can't digest. And then I stress
