Lounge

Who's the suspicious character strapped with the sounds profound. Similar to rounds spit by Derringers. You're in the Terrordome like my man Chuck D said. It's time to dethrone you clones, and all you knuckleheads. Cause MC's have used up extended warranties. While real MC's and DJ's are a minority. But right about now, I use my authority. Cause I'm like the Wizard and you look lost like Dorothy. The horror be, when I return for my real people. Words that split wigs hittin like some double Desert Eagles. Sportin caps pulled low, and baggy slacks and Subtractin all the rappers who lack, over Premier's tracks. Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse. So as I have in the past, I whup ass. Droppin lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax. And one-dimensional MC's can't handle that. While the world's revolvin, on it's axis I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics. The wilderness is filled with this; so many people searching for false lift. I'm here with the skills you've missed. The rejected stone is now the cornerstone. Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home. You know my steez.