i am the cunning linguist, disaster with pens. the eye of the fuckin twister trashing your fence. the iron i buck is fifty thousand percent saliva from tongue when spitting hazardous phlegm. the casualty death toll numbers take a spike, when i casually wet flows and undertake the mic. i'll thunder bolt your verses with the force of tsunamis, cause i'm the one and only person with the fortitude probly
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My syllable count approximately a billion, bounce. You cannot compete.
Last edited by CopyPat; 10-02-2015 at 10:58 AM.
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