In Tha Lab (this is just some clever ass, mutlies, metaphors, similies, wordplay.hot)
I replied too:
Atetrack define' Zions
GrYm StYlE To Much Bla Bla Bla Pure Fire
TREACH P Round 1 first open mic so dont hate
In The Lab
I think of tha time/
it takes to undermine/
The rhymes of a borderline/
Mastermind with the heart of swine/
Its nothing really just of matter of time/
And Ima blow like proximity mines/
The kid never conveys nursery rhymes in a verse/
But it’s child’s play whenever I put in the work/
To administer mine to the baseline goin berserk/
Patience is a thin line like fish lines so stay on alert/
Cause I’m bound to hurt ya at the twenty-four count/
This aint a playground but I put heads thru merry-go-rounds/
I don’t have a chorus lined up/
But I hook ya with a rigorous amount of punchlines Duck!/
Words Put you in a bind when its crunch time/
Step up to the front lines I’ll crush ya lines/
You’ll end up behind like I cut you in the lunch line/
I stay hungry but I never bite when its pun time/
Though I munch men severely like its lunchtime/
These Candy rappers with candy bars who underline/
My taste sometimes but tongue’s tie after I bust this onetime/
Sound the drum-line/
Hear the battle cry/
I’m the last warrior alive
So I’m the fittest to survive//
Im torn runnin toward shunned dreams/
Until my breathin contorts and asthma makes lungs cling/
So lean left, to brace yourself to get stumped right/
Hold ya spleen, strap ya seat belt up tight/
Ima get felt like an adrenaline rush/
Air melts my spit is burnin the heat off ya Dutch/
You gon’ get touched with this until ya get Goosebumps/
Music like poppin X with a slut grabbin ya loose nuts/
Yearnin to get up as Im turnin the beat up/
Ya blood suds up cause I drop heat like cigarette butts/
So bring the drugs when Synop stay in the cut /
And dick-heads lay down cause I’m fuckin they head up/
Im the guy to call to instill Subliminal strife/
Sterilize the mind and strike to blind the third eye/
Verbally sodomize the pitiful minds/
Of those inclined to touch mic devices with the likes of mine/
All I need is one stand and a spotlight/
One hand and mic to rock it right until police arrive/
And It seems Jail time is imminent/
and I don’t like to waist time for a minute /
That’s why I intend/
To disfigure ya from waist-line to tendon/
And my discretion will surrender/
So come one! come all! and splendor/
At how I dismember the fruits of ya labor/
And I’m blend em limber like blades in a blender/
