"True Game"
Drop, drop; drop, drop that sound./That insane grinning clown/chinchilla two tone trenchcoat lokoton./
Dubb 'em up where you been? In the lab/marinating with the pen and the pad/writing tracks way too phat./
A Mejicano hip-hop artist hacendo mestizadas,/I'm putting it together, my hates don't get nada/mais que una descalabrada./I do it a la brava./
Dump 'em/in the trunk and then I stick them/forget 'em/is how I drop them./
I'm riding - freestyling/ol' lokoton reprogramming/every day cuz I'm grinding./
Subliminal, lyrical; vocabulary never wack sucker free./Still looking for that perfect beat,/Technique 1200s free style rap zone I battle MCs./
Spitting these dope rhymes,/Always down for mines./
Hitman music poetic entertainment/I possess "true game" with the right ingredient./
Graffiti; breakdancing MCing; DJ the social dynamic element./
Old school pimpin' - I'm ah new school mack,/where's my poetic hustlers at?/Lincoln navi-
Gators; innovators, regulators and Escalade Cadillacs./
From a critical perspective/all that's left afflicted and affected./
I mean there ain't no stopping/To this wicked sick rapping./
A major leaguer baller/I'm getting at them dollars/Ah trigger happy scholar./
Wesas's really layin' em on their backs/Where you learn to spit that rap?/How you learned
To drop them tracks?/Up and down my block straight getting at them stacks./
What was I to do? Crazy slick tried robbing me of my pay. Do what you gotta do!/
Just looking for connects 'cause this's what I do./I'm funking up the airwaves and kick
It to you smooth in your motherfunkin' ear lobe./
Like hollow point slugs for your temple/On a dope instrumental/Signales get
Blasted for messing with my money/And that ain't never funny./
Gate keepers of culture, a chat or serious discussion/Hummerance hip-hop is my
Vehicle of expression./Rap music, rocks and melting the cordless microphone of evolution./
To rearrange ah mix dope Mexican./Hard headed like a brick./I am
What I am/That greasy slick/And get all I can./Pimp fluid never no trick/
I keep my pockets on swella,/A malo block good fella./Counting my money "always
Scheme"./Leaf puff so high that green,/Laced with top notch dames on clean./
To all them loosters in the pen, stay gangstered up,/And all them hustlers sippin'
Gin now that's what's up./For all my talented up and coming won't you come
On up,/Damn all you shovers that be hating man you need to stop./
VVDubbemup 2013
By Luis Marcom #47633
2013 aug 21
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