"...It's a mystery to me/How I make minced meat of emcees/No assis-ting/I just do it so swiftly/Must be all my sick dreams/Or maybe my technique/Cuz I split spleens when I spit scenes on these sixteens/Which means I got a mean ass means to eat emcees/So, allow me to chow down son/Bow son/Rhymes so fat/My chinese name is Chow Yun/Tryna make to the top like Hov and God Son/My nip tuck scripture is so quick to rip ya/That you little cats don't even appear on my richter/But blame it on the chemist of cadence who made it..."
Til next time
-D-Lock
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