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View Full Version : Part 3....The Tyrant


aLiAs R.I.P.08
04-21-2005, 03:34 PM
I step in again to ignite another eruption/
Mind concussions from this force cause your life suction/
Your rhymes deduction hit by the radiation of what I’m clutching/
The mics use to collaborate with evil’s plan of destruction/
You haven’t seen anything yet, but you won’t live to find out/
With high pounds of rhyme rounds I blind out your life’s sound/
Try now to write down a nice mound of rhymes, clown/
Get sniped down, your life drowns around grounds of death’s hounds/
True machine gun rap, every drop is tips lifted to hit ribs/
I shifted the ballistic explicit to rather let the reaper give you a visit/
I let the mind do its job giving my tongue a good work out/
My words sprout shouts of cursed clouds reigns of what your proud (of)/
This gluttony of what to speak of lusts of need of blood to feed on/
I love to read on hustle deep songs sucks to be on the worst to become/
Some may get it, others might not, the left’s the right spot/
You delivered the “right, dropped”, still think you write hot? /
I’ll forever keep your mouth shut when your life stops/
These words consist of the opposition of what God would vision/
Locked decisions reopened to jot petitions versus the cop’s restrictions/
They got to listen when the glocks be rippin you know it’s the human flocks who trippin/
The gloss and glisten of ghetto mobs is missin the core where the heart’s imprisoned/
This is the message I relinquish over to the labeled delinquents/
I believe in the “best” of these men (political powers) is where the devil sinks in/
We peddle without the metal, rather the metal is used to settle/
Disputes, the rebel takes one pull and the bullet is let go/
So what do you think is gon happen when you step into my face/
This trigger I embrace is laced with my finger to meet your grave/
A black hearted rap artist who paints your destiny with mind power/
Try to tower over my power my sour mouth’ll chomp to give my teeth a bloody shower/
You seem wack with green stacks gimme back the green grass/
This machine raps pass them weak tracks to permanently make you “lean back”/
Never again will you experience the feel of the wind/
You sinned against the men who rid people of continued wins/
It’s mandatory that you panic for me when my fist clench the mic/
Make victims feel suicidal, my recitals not to be liked/
Rappers who confiscate music that makes the body shake/
I had a lost of faith for them compared to what underground rosters make/
Now my mission clear, what they fear is what I hit them with spears/
They hit in the rears and sear through and out the body followed by the cinder of tears/
Radical synonyms living in the epidemic of this tongue’s militant/
You bringing in simple hymns but choke cause my rhymes is respiratory irritant/
Gaseous liquid lifted and constricted drops shoot out the mouth/
The tongue releases the acidic sickness at the victim who is sent to hell’s house/
The sleep of eternity is brought to the one who chose to test this/
They left with death’s wish of another corpse selected to the hectic/
The brain functions to produce the birth of another verbal weapon/
Whether it’s projection or close combat, the enemy will be resting/
Sick minded villain with the realist truth to place in the thoughts of heads/
Proving the heroes don’t always win when my hypnotized army leaves them dead/
Tools out the box of the imagination of decapitation/
The capacity of the blades I withhold against foes brings their eradication/
Annihilate allies who posed to be true friends/
If betrayal is your plan against me then your obliteration is when your mission ends/
The sound of gun fire is the equality of my tongue’s spirals/
I’m tired of these wannabes so I chose to close their life’s doors so they expire/
This mystical lyrical prose I used to hit at those/
They’ll never know where to go when their hit at the start of my liquid flow/
My vocabulary carries the malignancy of this style I manufactured/
If you’re captured you get fractured into this rapper’s rapture/
No need for them punchlines, my rude rhymes is true crimes/
Street methods of two times greater than literal truth lines/
Every syllable spoken is double bullet binary brothers/
If you hesitate my luminary rhythms crash at its prime making you bleed the primary color/
Illiterate beings burn beneath boiling boulders/
Words arose colder slashing your collar bone, spreading the cold shoulder/
A shoot out using this gun mouth, with one shot then they dead/
Leaving your vision "whited out" cause it's "cumming of the top of the head"/
Completely defeated thee, he who be tryna beat me/
The tyrant in this rap shit fucked these bitches up, now this nigga goes back into a deep sleep/

only cursed in the last lines on purpose....remember this is my bros rhymes....he come here on my username so dunt get it twistid...

Rah_Exodus18:11
04-21-2005, 04:13 PM
tyte rhyme hommie keep it up