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Post by Los Tha Don on Aug 6, 2006 7:55:04 GMT -5
I taped a mic to your digits, you still couldn't hold Your game's a cafeteria, complete wid bacteria an mold Fold under pressure, like a garbage compressor Faculty? You're wack emcees, far from professor No matta what you "try" preaching, I remain aggressor Full of old guidelines an laws, call me transgressor Ahead of the pack rebel, harming me is hard to do Even when I start a battle thread that ends up askew Pull the wool over your face, you yak with precision Put a cork in that mouthspace, that won't stop shittin Bout to reveal this busta, to all sistaz an bruvaz The closest Fatal got to pussy? Bein born out his mothaz Sharma you in the wrong thread, so leave forever & always Married for 25 years? Send your hubby my apologies Sorry, was that a low blow? Surprised you couldn't see it Are you okay? Did I atleast manage to miss your penis? I'm building my battalion, your ways indefinite Transmitting BS to Tha Don, without a damn permit Who are you? Where do you get off tellin me shit? Here's a ticket, so fly your ass back to CA bitch
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