DEFENDER'S RAP

• The lies told, with that old mic of yours call the verses "white gold". All your frauds make me seem untrue, here's where it gets real I, slam him the underground. Cause thats what I need to do. Spread your word around, before I shut it down. You rappin' with what, a notebook and soul? I think you're in my control. You're gonna make me hurl, make ya spin-a-track with, beat swirls. You missed what Hip Hop is and it's not, jewels, diamonds, and pearls. Blessed the microphone, elements not from the devil!If you can't impress, you aggress. Let loose the stress, and panic like, you got cancer. Spin em' lyrical attacks from behind. You're dealing with the true Multiverse, and you are? The amateur, who looked at me one time getting blind. Spittin' at this level betta make it a quick grind. With you, I'm fed-up wish you're dead. Every, punch I make is a voice in your head. This shit, you need to angle correctly, if you want to impress me. I'm sending you miles away, so you can be ready to die today. You wanna blow, atomically, become the Rap philosophy, master some, Hip Hop hypothesis. Damn I'll launch you, sticks and fists, just to hold mic you stretch out your wrists, all my rhymes hit with twists. Hell yeah, get at my heat "gangster of love", ya mouth will pack, the sun above, as I shock you the time in that electric chair. I'm somethin' unheard of, you're just, ready for war lemme drop-kick all your shitty writes to the bathroom floor!