Hooks vs Tonedef

[trap.]

04-03-2002

Tonedef spit...

Thought none could be worse, but wait where's the verse, its just all 'Hooks'...
fightin a bitch so ima tear-at-her, cus ive seen more 'character' in midget small books!!...
kid is foreign-to-flow, hit me twenty times and he still couldnt be 'scoring'-a-blow...
couldnt 'flow' if ya wrapped ya mic's-around-a-frock,..faggot rode his bike-around-the-block and claimed he was 'touring'-some-mo'...
I'll write a book on ya intestines so all ya 'shit' will run-home...
Staple ya arms down & gut you so voters see the story un-fold!!...
What happened to ya fingers? they must call ya Hooks cus ya got 'no touch'...
feel the pain, right? cus oral sex on a plane flight is ya only chance to 'blow up'...
I knock-teeth-in,...Hooks could be a thief with butterfingers and still fail to 'drop-these-gems'...
Ya death has been long-seen, ive gone-green from sickness, so how ya gonna stop-me-then...
chew on this piece,..must be gettin worn teeth cus ya come from biter stock...
I'll Fight on legos made from shakespeare's bones just to prove i win on 'writer's-block'...
Like doctors on boats, ya whole style is dealin with the 'Bay-Sicks'(Basics)...
Put this battle on a razor's edge and theres still no way you could 'sway'-this...
I'll book a show and put Hooks Death on the play-list,..best keep ya balance...
throw ya into a washing machine at the beach and you still couldnt get some 'Towel-Lint'(Talent)...
Ya whole existance is pointless,..Hooks on the mic is like the devil beggin "please-hate-me"
I stop heartbeats between 'F' and 'H', that means theres no more E.K.-G!(EKG=heart machine)
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Hooks spit,

ya sware ya 'bomb tracks' wit murder! ya mental lacks tha essential brain to become a learner~you juss strike a flame to this game…use clechees as a phrase cuz you know you just a 'CD Burner'!//
Speakin wit fervor to wreck…ya mouth explodes wit a switch cuz a mic and grenade don’t mix~get ‘drilled‘ by my rap glitch, tha hooks are guaranteed to leave tha mouth wit an ‘oral fix’//
A flaw I draw, ya only afford ‘nix-in’ this battle~gotta admit to face me is contraDICKtin ya scandal~juss too large for you…and you try to fit-in wit my lyrical prattle?//(richard/dick nixon)
shit, thats probably why you extended ya verse(he did)~gave you tha first bar, made you feel like you was pampered by a nurse...ill?...nah, you need come worse!//
smoke ya soul wit a single pull so you can battle me at rebirth-n reincarnate yur fate for wut its worth on this earth//
'wore' you out like ballin kicks, comin 'juss short' of makin you look like an 'ass' like rockin short skirts on a chick//
wut you spittin is taint~another plaque on tha wall for tha 'dragon' (bad breath) i slayed...this spit off tha 'head' brushed him off my 'shoulder' like hair flakes, have him 'mornin' wit colgate//
goin straight the head and makin 'ill' beats on yur ear drums~makin tone go def from tha hearin AIDS un heard of...this battle's for funds to the TONEDEF and 'burned' clubs//
tha razors edge cuts this shrub down to facial scars wit wicked bars~tha 'total recall' is ya 'eyes budge outta socket' when readin my verse that hurts like livin life on mars//
ya heads circling stars cuz ya were unaware...wreck and tha despair you accepted outcomes tha effect of a blinded stare~'wax' up wit facts that 'pulls you out' of this thread wit typed lead-n 'nare'//
leave you all alone wit juss a road flare and losin support of a wheelchair~rocked into euphoria of dread and impair...my punches create a phobia of skill that juss make you either dead or lost out there//