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#11 |
Mic Check
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I’m drinkin a beer again… cause something is wrong with me
Inkin these lyrics when drunk and I’m vomiting Need a frontal lobotomy more than a bottle in front of me But my style is so sick I need a doctor to cut in me My noggin is dumb with these... I’m nutty with flows Got nausea from stomaching the ones that we wrote No wonder we gross, and rhymes is just horror The lump’s in my throat from viral disorders My mind is distorted and kinda retarded And the lines of my poems would widely support it Highly contorted, the style is so twisted With a variety assortment of rhyming conditions
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My syllable count approximately a billion, bounce. You cannot compete. |
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