F.I.R.E PT. 7

• Written by 

LyricLee's Notes

All them niggas out there...D-D-D-DROP THAT HEAT!
Do it for the streets, do it for the slums. Fuck,

0:42: Microphone genius on Webster suppliments, aa batteries and activity space. Slammin punks with wafflestompers air-flowin lyrics gravitate. Faggotry shit abbreviates ferocious demons will split your soul it seperates. Niggas slept on me these lyrical skills pit em in wagon-lit. Aggresivity performance sped-fast horse power shit, quality-writes abdicate, blocked pricks quick hoppin on pen-light rapid transits this speedo arsenal I grip. Power soldier aboriginality climbin mobility capitol rhymin immortal tricks. Bringin punches fourth like court-sent Habeas corpus, climbed up rhyme fortress. Bricks at me fist a toss, ludicrous kids try n spit a jawn, what a bunch of boring lot. Emceedom habilatory hip hop laboratory laboratin extraordinary. Collaborating ordinary. Emcee master uberous skills wit an in-put flywheel energy storage system, restoration rap-combat these metal heads warped into my orchestral-action music jams bullshit-packed! Hard writes to bare birth an MC unbearable. You just uplifted a rappable rap-animal hyper-speedin off cyberpunk rails. Racin with mangolian blood winnin ugarian, superhuman non-humanitarian. A war-powered hyperbolic cranium ultra marine, spittin these losers some steam. As they pissin marination on a toilet seat. Reincarnate sickness iamatology-sticks thwackin the sick. Battlescars and crunk heat, girl with the lighter cigar light her some drum beats. Way beyond evelotion, fuckers had a chance twist em out from this pollution. Ima jetson sneak jettin with these rocket sneakers retro moving. Cold krump monster in italy, with pounding 808s front of iatromathematicians, catastrophic rap asshole spat-magicians, magic-trickin dont make me fuckin pissed with ya leading assholedom syndrom. Punchin bars take practice with these clowns dillydallying in idiot-circus. Im a skyrocketing war head dooming pedestrians, the sonic-beaming nova blowin out your written-prism, write-box, Im boxing with a rap bot algorithm. Get a drop-kick that drops kid, off-quick dropped hits. Stamina and superpowers, predict and provide. Lost in space, get gravity and oxygen-rape be the end of your life. Egyptians in ice, Cleopatra icelandic icicle rhythms and chillin rhymes. I dropped that heat, my guys.

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