[trap.]

04-08-2002



Hummel :

My Rhymes come together like covalent bond structures... got a problem... heres the number go wait in line mother fucker... o brother sucker emcees like a cheap date... easy to accomodate... get off my dick, yeah the one yur momma ate... my lyriks invade the space that yur comma made... drop a shade now you have an excuse for yur sloppy style... try and stop me while ill invade... and pop these childs... yur like water... tend to evaporate after awhile... i dial emcees just give me the phonebook... whats yur number,ill thrill you... im outside, go look... so shook got yur knees feelin weak... like nicatin... i got yur hoes fieding me... shes feeling me... like you bump my cd... call her intel coz im inside like pcs... uniquely i spit with a twisted tounge... you swung and missed this son... ya dickless punk... you got fisted like yur sisters cunt... yur a stunt emcee... not worthy to be a back up... yur a man... go check yur status... im the phattest... tend to get stuck between doors... im sharp cut leen till yur spleen poors... i see more some call me a prophet... biohazard rhymes toxic...view the future... or stream through time backwards... you dont want the truth... facts hurt... yur all in the butt of things... you goin out ass first...
this is the style i use for all my battles, exclusive so nobody can bite.



Streets a.k.a. Ðanny Omen


Hummel, with all greatness comes an ego,
ive hiddin mine for too long, so fuck bein humble//
its time i show'd u damage ta show u my shit causes rumbles //
Hit u wit my style, send u into convulsions n seasures,
put u out of your misery wit an 11 inch meat cleaver //
whats wrong with that? u to pussy ta do it ur self,
give it to me, a.k.a. leave it to beaver //
after all, im legally insane, it'll only be a 3rd degree mistaminor //
the teachers tried to help, to help with my twisted thoughts,
but i turned to the devil, because god couldnt either //
but i hope, the Pastor R.Y., is prayin by your side,
u gone need 8 gallons of holly water, so grab a meator //
cause im gana eat your style like 2 year old n a teether,
bit n ripped through the rhyme skin, call 911, we got a bleeder //
paramedics beta hurry quick, ya down to 11 liters //
loose'n blood from ya brain as in exits ya veins, he goin dumb,
his intellegents level droped to a 3rd grade reader,
his minds goin numb. n thats what u get, for askin for a Re-Run //
you get ta stand there dead of silence all around you,
because of all the vocal tone violence, you stay stun'd //
n when u try ta spit, u listen real close n cant hear shit,
try ta say ur name but all u can do is " HUM " //
makein sure u dont run, i stand back.
wit my gat n plenty of time ta spray on the wall,my name, in flat black //
wit a caption that says , " if u better at punches n word play i wana see u top that,
take it play by play in instant reaction replay total battle action ,
" come on, lets see u make it happen //
show me your skill, hummel , lets see how tight u are at rappin //
i spent mad time establishing myself, so excuse me for laughin //
just know one thing after u take this rap bashin' //
me n u , we cool . u got skill man, but when challanged.
i'm comein my hardest regardless weither u incite,
or former crew mate " green cardless " //