the rhyme king
truth.com
i think aye verb would spank banks lyrically imo
Aye Verb vs. Math Hoffa, I ain’t glad, I’m mad, potna
Y’all threw me in the ring with y’all battle rap bully? Mr. “Jab Proper?”
A nikka that sucker-punched an 125 pound man and didn’t drop him?
That’s obnoxious, why y’all treat him like he Batman like the battle world is Gotham?
That’s why he got that chip on his shoulder stuck like a shotgun
But there’s one problem: real nikkas never get accused of fukking with fags, Hoffa
Let’s break you down, lyrically you ave, Hoffa
But you funny as a motherfukker, you make nikkas laugh, Hoffa
??
I will homie-don’t-play-that sock this clown, the padlocks in it
Undercover rapper slash copper
I tell my nikkas to shoot, you tell and get my shooters locked up
I’m going after gold with Mook, why in the fukk should I chase copper?
He swing on me, I swing back but I’m waving that damn chopper
Shots pop him, he in the hospital propped up
shyt bag, small TV, soap operas, Jell-o cups, nurses, doctorsThem rappers you punked, we’re not them and they’re not us
Tonight, your voice get out the pocket, just one octave
Aye Verb vs. Math Hoffa, I ain’t glad, I’m mad, potna
Y’all threw me in the ring with y’all battle rap bully? Mr. “Jab Proper?”
A nikka that sucker-punched an 125 pound man and didn’t drop him?
That’s obnoxious, why y’all treat him like he Batman like the battle world is Gotham?
That’s why he got that chip on his shoulder stuck like a shotgun
But there’s one problem: real nikkas never get accused of fukking with fags, Hoffa
Let’s break you down, lyrically you ave, Hoffa
But you funny as a motherfukker, you make nikkas laugh, Hoffa
??
I will homie-don’t-play-that sock this clown, the padlocks in it
Undercover rapper slash copper
I tell my nikkas to shoot, you tell and get my shooters locked up
I’m going after gold with Mook, why in the fukk should I chase copper?
He swing on me, I swing back but I’m waving that damn chopper
Shots pop him, he in the hospital propped up
shyt bag, small TV, soap operas, Jell-o cups, nurses, doctorsThem rappers you punked, we’re not them and they’re not us
Tonight, your voice get out the pocket, just one octave
