J-Live

J-Live - Braggin' Writes lyrics

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For underground metaphors
 You can scrape an inch below the turf  for what it's worth
 My style's been developed in the core of the Earth
 The exhale's volcanic  the inhale is seismic
 So brothers just panic when he Live one arrives with
 The natural ability to run through your crew
 From 2 1 4 to 2 1 3 to 2 1 2
 In other words  from Dallas  to L.A., to the place where J stay
 Everyday is mayday
 So you can talk your trash on how you're wettin MC's
 with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain
 I look upon your brain with disdain
 Go back and reflect on my endeavors black I can't complain
 It's like a raw deal, consistant with the way I make you feel
 The ends stay revealed while the means I conceal
 And those who try to steal get decapitated
 You wanna snatch my H2O type flow, but it evaporated
 I displays my credentials over instrumentals
 And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential
 It's detremental questionin my thesis
 The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis
 I rip your rhyme to pieces after drainin out your fluid
 My vocab is fluent yours is evident of being truant
 I know you wanna make moves but son you best to take a second look
 Before my knight takes your rook

 Chorus:

 Cause everybody's rappin, and only few can flow
 So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know
 I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
 So if you come with bull kid, keep it on the low

 Cause yo, I got the hairsplittin, self-written unbitten style
 that leaves the competition running scared and shakin in their pants
 You best to set it off cause black it aint no second chance
 once I'm open, all you doin is hopin that the Live one
 will put the mic down, but son don't try to snatch it after
 The laughter won't cease from the comparison, how dare you son
 Step around the booth when I'm on
 The microphone magician says poof, you're gone with the wind
 There's no trace of your friends cause you don't know where the
 beginning ends or where the end begins
 But you see that's the difference, you get sold, I get paid
 Black I told you, get paid
 If you're broke I'll have to rain on your parade
 You belong in Special Ed if you think you Got It Made
 J-Live with the mic is like the chef with the blade
 Cause suckers get sliced and sauteed
 Yeah, you thought your joint was fly but the flight was delayed
 because

 Chorus: repeat 2X

 Cause yo, I take the grey matter of pretenders
 through my mental blender, and then return to sender
 My pen don't pretend to offend
 I intend to render MC's, hangin loose like a fender bender
 I recommend regardless of your gender
 That you strike messin with J-Live from your agenda
 And remember that whoever lends a helpin hand to defend ya
 Will get burned to a cinder
 As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies
 Renderin me sick, with the thoughts of killin enemies
 But then I return to reality
 Metaphorically murderin MC's when they battle me
 You can't rattle me
 I'm not your average snake slitherin through the grass
 I surpass the serpent as I head to class
 You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style's no joke
 but you best belive I gets the last laugh
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Triple Threat Productions

Details:

Released in: 1995

Language: English

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