CHALLENGER'S RAP

• I cut to the bone when I harmonize
• you can't thug from a phone with harmin eyes
• I'm busy, lazy, crazy, and dizzy.. you're just tasha's cries
• Don't let your gaze south, faggot, look at me as you blow the dice
• See my silhouette against darkened skies
• As I bust and provide you a martyrs disguise
• You yell out "ride or die" as you pedal your bike
• I'm a writer so it's known I've died and died
• If I questioned your intelligence no arm'd rise
• You sleep on the truth then awaken alarmed to find
• That though you feel your owed the markets price
• is far to high to correct the slight dealt when kharma's lied
• I spit hot fire, my salivas caramelized
• You more resemble a frozen pond of ice
• Cuz you sit there static and ponder whys
• I'd slay on stage as though from armoured ride
• And your blood pools cuz your all o' buzz like you're farming flies
•  
• So when my neighbors try to bang down the door asking
• to turn down the bang I can ax them with passion...
• And keep pissing them off cuz even the dead can here what I'm passing...
• But I'd honor there passing by rolling some grass and throw some ashe in,
• just to bring them back reconcile for my actions
• Then relapse when they've emptied my bag and,
• repeat the axing with the reaction being a re-axin'...
• My homie knocking doesn't involve dashing,
• it's all knocking a homie’s noggin passed in...