Some Dumb Shit
Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 5:11 pm
Just some dumb shit to shake the dust off...
This is pyromania, I'm obsessed with torchin rappers/
Ruck is fuckin hard, you bitches will need a Morning After/
Feel the force and rapture, corpse left in the morgue with fractures/
But thats what happens when you ignore the fact that yer sword is backwards/
Its a war of masters, an infidel rushin the citadel/
Spit a shell, end the story you'll never live to tell/
This is living hell, dwell in a prison cell/
I've written well, name a scripture I spit that isn't felt/
"When's yer shit hittin shelfs?", you'll know when it did/
Kids will throw in the disc and be like "his flowin is sick"/
Yer dreams shatter like a window, yer hope in a ditch/
Go to yer crib jokin and holdin a brick/
Fuck smokin, I'm known to melt a team like no one else has seen/
I'm confident that I'll give you the lowest self esteem/
Though I'm seldom weak when I'm droppin all the ill flows/
My skill's older than the condoms in your billfold/
But I still hold my own with the pen and script/
My penmanship tends to trip men like their tendons ripped/
Words bent then fixed, thoughts fused with a promise/
If dudes wanna hear real music, take cues from an ostrich/
The view from the top of this throne is perfect/
I own the verses, you cats come short like youve blown a circuit/
Yall grown a cervix, so quick to turn bitch made/
While my wits stay sharper than the tip of a switchblade/
Wishin I'd ixnay, I'll rip gays in pig latin/
I'm a Ruckus, dont confuse a rig crashin to a twig snappin/
This is big action, the hero's here to settle the debts/
Cause metal to flex with no special effects/
I'll wrestle with death with no smoke or mirrors/
And choke her til not a single soul can hear her/
This is pyromania, I'm obsessed with torchin rappers/
Ruck is fuckin hard, you bitches will need a Morning After/
Feel the force and rapture, corpse left in the morgue with fractures/
But thats what happens when you ignore the fact that yer sword is backwards/
Its a war of masters, an infidel rushin the citadel/
Spit a shell, end the story you'll never live to tell/
This is living hell, dwell in a prison cell/
I've written well, name a scripture I spit that isn't felt/
"When's yer shit hittin shelfs?", you'll know when it did/
Kids will throw in the disc and be like "his flowin is sick"/
Yer dreams shatter like a window, yer hope in a ditch/
Go to yer crib jokin and holdin a brick/
Fuck smokin, I'm known to melt a team like no one else has seen/
I'm confident that I'll give you the lowest self esteem/
Though I'm seldom weak when I'm droppin all the ill flows/
My skill's older than the condoms in your billfold/
But I still hold my own with the pen and script/
My penmanship tends to trip men like their tendons ripped/
Words bent then fixed, thoughts fused with a promise/
If dudes wanna hear real music, take cues from an ostrich/
The view from the top of this throne is perfect/
I own the verses, you cats come short like youve blown a circuit/
Yall grown a cervix, so quick to turn bitch made/
While my wits stay sharper than the tip of a switchblade/
Wishin I'd ixnay, I'll rip gays in pig latin/
I'm a Ruckus, dont confuse a rig crashin to a twig snappin/
This is big action, the hero's here to settle the debts/
Cause metal to flex with no special effects/
I'll wrestle with death with no smoke or mirrors/
And choke her til not a single soul can hear her/