trap.
02-02-2013, 06:51 PM
Equation:
Check it....
gangsign or trap, have no clue why you were using an alias/
cuz when you confessed, i said “i still don’t know who the hell he is”/
i’ve been battling for years, how can you beat and rule me/
closest you’ve come to old school? was when you peeped the movie/
you’re weak, unruly and about to get smashed and smothered/
“close” is mentioned in this fight only to bring up your casket cover/
don’t cause static, brother...use my spit fire to best ya, faggot/
and you’ll pass out from the heat without taking an ephedra tablet/
so start wallowing, when it comes to your pride, just swallow it/
fuck punches when your verse’s a joke, just get a kick out of it/
your shit, i’ll throttle it, let me tell you that both your names suck/
would’ve been better of no showing, either way you’re a lame duck/
think you’re pushing weight? you just need to face the music/
or else you’ll carry medicine balls cuz you’ll get played like Zooch did/
this battle, you’ll lose it....ya rhymes will get toasted, son/
first time you pictured the streets was when Comedian posted some/
hos get sonned, my rhyme will leave you not breathing right/
in this melee, i owned you, so time to get a new lease on life/
you need to do a 180 degrees in fights even though you hatin me/
cause i’ll tag you quicker then franchises in NFL Free Agency/
my shit is killer, when cats peep your shit, they sift through filler/
no need to be strong to beat you, don’t have to lift a finger/
kid will hinder a good battle, always showing us wack rhymes/
sick when I eat this MC, you’ll see me throwing up gangsigns/
<HR WIDTH="450" ALIGN="left">
gangsign:
crip or blood, eQuation ain't eQuipped 2 thug,
gangsigns like tennis blowouts, i still get [triple-love]
ya skill retreats duke, quips homie, ya fam-hates quotes,
and still defeat you, even if only ya fanbase votes,
GS is sonning vets, eQ shine ? he lacks presence,
think you [runnin text], you gotta [bad track record]
math teachers never liked me, the hatred's-amazing ...
shared a common bond cuz im always [dissin equationS]
gettin senile ? reason ? what ya spittin' relapsed,
reppin [keystyles] but dog, even ya [writtens] are trash,
this is [punch-drunk love] don't even fuck w/ me sober,
made the PBA tourney by luck, and still got [bowled over]
stink inside the booth, audio rust, listening dies,
you think ya [the truth] but you just [livin a lie]
erasing the illiterate ? sylvan wrote ya battle pa,
facing an idiot who couldn't solve his own avatar,
fractions aside, yer half the man i am, i ain't scared,
and how the fuck you gonna diss me when ya best-friends a [square]?
fuck glasses, the eyeshadows why ya visions blurry,
minus ya iQ, 10 barS is the [least] of ya worries.
Check it....
gangsign or trap, have no clue why you were using an alias/
cuz when you confessed, i said “i still don’t know who the hell he is”/
i’ve been battling for years, how can you beat and rule me/
closest you’ve come to old school? was when you peeped the movie/
you’re weak, unruly and about to get smashed and smothered/
“close” is mentioned in this fight only to bring up your casket cover/
don’t cause static, brother...use my spit fire to best ya, faggot/
and you’ll pass out from the heat without taking an ephedra tablet/
so start wallowing, when it comes to your pride, just swallow it/
fuck punches when your verse’s a joke, just get a kick out of it/
your shit, i’ll throttle it, let me tell you that both your names suck/
would’ve been better of no showing, either way you’re a lame duck/
think you’re pushing weight? you just need to face the music/
or else you’ll carry medicine balls cuz you’ll get played like Zooch did/
this battle, you’ll lose it....ya rhymes will get toasted, son/
first time you pictured the streets was when Comedian posted some/
hos get sonned, my rhyme will leave you not breathing right/
in this melee, i owned you, so time to get a new lease on life/
you need to do a 180 degrees in fights even though you hatin me/
cause i’ll tag you quicker then franchises in NFL Free Agency/
my shit is killer, when cats peep your shit, they sift through filler/
no need to be strong to beat you, don’t have to lift a finger/
kid will hinder a good battle, always showing us wack rhymes/
sick when I eat this MC, you’ll see me throwing up gangsigns/
<HR WIDTH="450" ALIGN="left">
gangsign:
crip or blood, eQuation ain't eQuipped 2 thug,
gangsigns like tennis blowouts, i still get [triple-love]
ya skill retreats duke, quips homie, ya fam-hates quotes,
and still defeat you, even if only ya fanbase votes,
GS is sonning vets, eQ shine ? he lacks presence,
think you [runnin text], you gotta [bad track record]
math teachers never liked me, the hatred's-amazing ...
shared a common bond cuz im always [dissin equationS]
gettin senile ? reason ? what ya spittin' relapsed,
reppin [keystyles] but dog, even ya [writtens] are trash,
this is [punch-drunk love] don't even fuck w/ me sober,
made the PBA tourney by luck, and still got [bowled over]
stink inside the booth, audio rust, listening dies,
you think ya [the truth] but you just [livin a lie]
erasing the illiterate ? sylvan wrote ya battle pa,
facing an idiot who couldn't solve his own avatar,
fractions aside, yer half the man i am, i ain't scared,
and how the fuck you gonna diss me when ya best-friends a [square]?
fuck glasses, the eyeshadows why ya visions blurry,
minus ya iQ, 10 barS is the [least] of ya worries.