Sini vs. Revolution

Lindel · 12-31-2024, 01:30 AM

Mike and Genocide are back to cause terror,
my sword severs vocal cords beyond measure,
y’all claim off the chain but remain some dogs tethered,
so I take aim at you lames you all better,
leave or get bagged up like leaves in fall weather,
A-T-R is the team no need for more letters,

Just absorb the message heard and ring off like a desert bird
Answer when the call comes, flick the dust off the cellular
Seldom do the words not strike true fright, need religion in this black light
Musta missed the bus, but wound up on the path right
Mag-lights flashing my coordinates, the organ hits the right keys
Gen and mike back to bring you life more than likely..

We some ogres and bandits that are taking over the planet,
returned to cause chaos as we spread commotion and panic,
my home is a labyrinth that boas and cobras inhabit,
slither through the streets, avenues frozen in granite,
we explosive and savage, so go take your dosage of xanax,
cause each and everyone of our opponents will leave swollen and damaged,

Gold fangs quote the priciest language, grabbin life by the tits
All natural, authentic python grip crush the point when i bite down nips..
See hustle and never mind, never once have i snitched
Used to roll blunts and blow clouds off of wonderful hits
Theres nothing i miss more but ive adjusted the game
Analyze these young suckers and gaze, realizing that i suffer from age..

but we still in our prime, everyone left here is broken and feeble,
we above the rest like a steeple of a roman cathedral,
cause at this moment you people,
are just weasels, cock roaches, rodents and beetles,
and I'm here to exterminate you all with a component of evil
the palisades of this crusade have been heavily fortified ,
stay tuned all you maggots cause there's surely more to die

Pass the captain morgan til my body is dead
Theres no bitch in my soul, just a god in the flesh
Me and mike been at ya necks since the textodus era
Aint a colder two still doin this that ever could pair up
Just a pen, beat and a booth and youll be leakin your fluids
And we'll be there piss drunk, all we bring is the trueness

This is direct connotation. Or is it? I’ll resurrect Thomas Paine when, he wrote Common Sense. Who’s the best on vocation? Home-schooled but on vacation. I’m old-school. I’m Sinatra’s face. Frankly, you're not the same. Couldn’t erect a pretense that I’m creating, through the unrealness to allocate this. Look in-between the correlation, I’ll skeet on your mommas face. Indeed the sea of semen in blotchy places. You could see I plopped it on a certain locked location. If you connect the dots, you’ll allot a constellation. I went Ursa Major on her Canis Minora. We consummated. You couldn't shapeshift to save your life, I'm on euphoria. I need a consultation. Distressed. While orchestrating; a gang of wolves to eat you, while playing, Mozart's Requiem D-minor. On rotation. The lithiums' got me off-the-wall. A quick sketch compilation. You couldn’t predict my awkward state. By awkward state, I mean I’m on the fence insane when, I hop the gates to California. I’m off to Vegas. If I cock a waitress, does the AIDs I fucked her vague with, condensed to stay in Vegas? That's awfully vagina of you. & this is Survival of the Fisting. I’ve mutated, from hobbit case, to robotic rapist. Godzilla with finesse of God’s creation. Crowd thriller, count syllables. It's the Cloverfield monster had sex with Walter Payton. This is intense confrontation. You couldn't have intent to stop this pace with, double-edge-tipped oscillating, drill-pressed lava plagued-drip automation. This events' a provocation of all six-senses from M. Night Shyamalan, - if he innately thought to say. Salam Alaikum. Met Mahatmas in the Bahamas and made fun of his name, @BWHAHA arranged it. I'm Ghandi teaching Dhalsim the kick-leg thin-stretch pressing six-X combination. I’m an indexed incarnation of having sick sex, molestation. I have a sick sense of masturbation. Forget my occupation. Just nominate me. I’ll inject Obama, facing, six counts of incarceration. I insist on the operation. Select to embalm. It’s suspense in my palm. When I read it, it tells me to disconnect you from across the nation. Infect biologic rations. It's cross-checked. Some say I'm like Satan, with a pure touch. Imagine the Lochness in a velour tux, causing riots from an ionizing basin. The type of concoction phasing that causes primary caustic flaming. I love reading binary naked. If you translate the 00100001001's to sex 101, you'd see the vagina's flanking while the penis try escaping. Traumatic inhale. Oxidation. The next segment. Godly Mason, and truly I'm the Illuminati w/o the Illumi-. Illuminating, with an intent on motivating. I invent and procreate, the most incestuous postulate. I split eggs, like ovulation. Get your sig checked, if it doesnt have darth in large quotations, you're not amazing. So much suspense, you ought’ to say, you couldn’t suspect an ounce of what my chakra sprays. Let’s commence to walk away. I’m a split-end, on the hair of Samson, & It’s Darth today. I'm VERY handsome , and its fully sunk-in, that this Hulk is hunky. I'm immense. And on occasion, when I rhyme, I emblazon. X’s and Xross-terrain. They call me the ironic machine. Have sex in your Jeep 4x4 with a chick whose lies' are- she's sixteen. On my porch I’m laden. To a mortal state. Where more than often I create a mortar slate. An apex. Distraught equations. Steven Hawkings pacing; breathing: "it's p-h not v" I'm sorry Pheven. on his wheelchair buzzing his buzzer. I'm content just rollerblading. (he’s jealous that I have smaller wheels, but faster.) More revolutions on rotation. Killing my mistress, gripping chainsaws, like goodbyeeee, I’m crazy.

12-31-2024, 01:30 AM	#11
Lindel Box Join Date: Dec 2018 Posts: 1,141 Rep Power: 0	Zygote Mike and Genocide are back to cause terror, my sword severs vocal cords beyond measure, y’all claim off the chain but remain some dogs tethered, so I take aim at you lames you all better, leave or get bagged up like leaves in fall weather, A-T-R is the team no need for more letters, Just absorb the message heard and ring off like a desert bird Answer when the call comes, flick the dust off the cellular Seldom do the words not strike true fright, need religion in this black light Musta missed the bus, but wound up on the path right Mag-lights flashing my coordinates, the organ hits the right keys Gen and mike back to bring you life more than likely.. We some ogres and bandits that are taking over the planet, returned to cause chaos as we spread commotion and panic, my home is a labyrinth that boas and cobras inhabit, slither through the streets, avenues frozen in granite, we explosive and savage, so go take your dosage of xanax, cause each and everyone of our opponents will leave swollen and damaged, Gold fangs quote the priciest language, grabbin life by the tits All natural, authentic python grip crush the point when i bite down nips.. See hustle and never mind, never once have i snitched Used to roll blunts and blow clouds off of wonderful hits Theres nothing i miss more but ive adjusted the game Analyze these young suckers and gaze, realizing that i suffer from age.. but we still in our prime, everyone left here is broken and feeble, we above the rest like a steeple of a roman cathedral, cause at this moment you people, are just weasels, cock roaches, rodents and beetles, and I'm here to exterminate you all with a component of evil the palisades of this crusade have been heavily fortified , stay tuned all you maggots cause there's surely more to die Pass the captain morgan til my body is dead Theres no bitch in my soul, just a god in the flesh Me and mike been at ya necks since the textodus era Aint a colder two still doin this that ever could pair up Just a pen, beat and a booth and youll be leakin your fluids And we'll be there piss drunk, all we bring is the trueness This is direct connotation. Or is it? I’ll resurrect Thomas Paine when, he wrote Common Sense. Who’s the best on vocation? Home-schooled but on vacation. I’m old-school. I’m Sinatra’s face. Frankly, you're not the same. Couldn’t erect a pretense that I’m creating, through the unrealness to allocate this. Look in-between the correlation, I’ll skeet on your mommas face. Indeed the sea of semen in blotchy places. You could see I plopped it on a certain locked location. If you connect the dots, you’ll allot a constellation. I went Ursa Major on her Canis Minora. We consummated. You couldn't shapeshift to save your life, I'm on euphoria. I need a consultation. Distressed. While orchestrating; a gang of wolves to eat you, while playing, Mozart's Requiem D-minor. On rotation. The lithiums' got me off-the-wall. A quick sketch compilation. You couldn’t predict my awkward state. By awkward state, I mean I’m on the fence insane when, I hop the gates to California. I’m off to Vegas. If I cock a waitress, does the AIDs I fucked her vague with, condensed to stay in Vegas? That's awfully vagina of you. & this is Survival of the Fisting. I’ve mutated, from hobbit case, to robotic rapist. Godzilla with finesse of God’s creation. Crowd thriller, count syllables. It's the Cloverfield monster had sex with Walter Payton. This is intense confrontation. You couldn't have intent to stop this pace with, double-edge-tipped oscillating, drill-pressed lava plagued-drip automation. This events' a provocation of all six-senses from M. Night Shyamalan, - if he innately thought to say. Salam Alaikum. Met Mahatmas in the Bahamas and made fun of his name, @BWHAHA arranged it. I'm Ghandi teaching Dhalsim the kick-leg thin-stretch pressing six-X combination. I’m an indexed incarnation of having sick sex, molestation. I have a sick sense of masturbation. Forget my occupation. Just nominate me. I’ll inject Obama, facing, six counts of incarceration. I insist on the operation. Select to embalm. It’s suspense in my palm. When I read it, it tells me to disconnect you from across the nation. Infect biologic rations. It's cross-checked. Some say I'm like Satan, with a pure touch. Imagine the Lochness in a velour tux, causing riots from an ionizing basin. The type of concoction phasing that causes primary caustic flaming. I love reading binary naked. If you translate the 00100001001's to sex 101, you'd see the vagina's flanking while the penis try escaping. Traumatic inhale. Oxidation. The next segment. Godly Mason, and truly I'm the Illuminati w/o the Illumi-. Illuminating, with an intent on motivating. I invent and procreate, the most incestuous postulate. I split eggs, like ovulation. Get your sig checked, if it doesnt have darth in large quotations, you're not amazing. So much suspense, you ought’ to say, you couldn’t suspect an ounce of what my chakra sprays. Let’s commence to walk away. I’m a split-end, on the hair of Samson, & It’s Darth today. I'm VERY handsome , and its fully sunk-in, that this Hulk is hunky. I'm immense. And on occasion, when I rhyme, I emblazon. X’s and Xross-terrain. They call me the ironic machine. Have sex in your Jeep 4x4 with a chick whose lies' are- she's sixteen. On my porch I’m laden. To a mortal state. Where more than often I create a mortar slate. An apex. Distraught equations. Steven Hawkings pacing; breathing: "it's p-h not v" I'm sorry Pheven. on his wheelchair buzzing his buzzer. I'm content just rollerblading. (he’s jealous that I have smaller wheels, but faster.) More revolutions on rotation. Killing my mistress, gripping chainsaws, like goodbyeeee, I’m crazy.