DEFENDER'S RAP

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• Gripping the mic for mad long, made my wrist sore
• but it was all worth it, to place me into rap lore
• the ribs is done for, hungry niggas feast more
• like a wild ass carnivore, it could sniff the meat through the steel door
• and mark the weak niggas for death
• i could feel it in they cold ass breath
• bunch of fearful niggas, get cooked like meth
• street pressure is the chef
• but behind that all, is a living force, with a demented mind state
• the type of mind state, where plagued misery is my fate
• your name is engraved in diamond, buried through a thick layer of gods hate
• the seven deadly sins, following you, everywhere you go
• til death do you niggas part, yet the hell’s still a start
• ya niggas aiming for a pointless target, like a plastic dart
• they’ll leave you with a silent stink, like a discreet fart
• working behind the money, as opposed to its front
• guess its fuck a 4 base run, just go for a bunt
• just be aware of all the unknowns that may come from that stunt