Line of Fire - Domingo, M.C. Shan, FT

I am a jealous rap god for sure, have no other rap gods before me

Kneel to these MC’s and they corny

Be on thee alert, I practice

After I smirk I do work, MC’s lack this, they chase skirts

All day and all night I write

Touch up your mic and make the body feel alright

MC’s bite and incorrect recite

What I say on the radio late night

But their lyrical structure ain’t shaped right

They don’t speak right

BAM!

Sleep tight

I continue yearly, to speak clearly

Professors with PhD’s degrees sincerely fear me

Because I merely speak articulate

Expressing the present philosophy and shit

I captivate the audience

And oh Lord it gets

After that pure raunchiness

But let’s get on with this, session

Fast

I get Ill like Al when I Skratch that ass

I’m the past, the present, the future

You’se a loser cause these bitch MC’s is what ya used to

I’ll do ya, no I’m doing ya, pursuing ya, putting two in ya

Booyaka, booyaka

MC’s mentalities freeze when I breathe energy

High degrees, in rhythmic philosophies

I master flows so I can flip it up in any point and simply click

There’s only one way to describe my persona and that’s «simply sick»

That’s off the wall, push the meter to the meat racks

You kinda get this feeling I’m not dealing with a complete stack

Of cards and the odds is like a 20 to 1 shot

And each verse that I burst is like the blast from a gunshot

And when I storm son I hail down fire rains screaming out in dire pain

Chase Freddy’s ass down Michael Meyer’s lane

The world is living shiesty and I don’t know who to trust

I’ll blaze your crew to dust and ain’t a damn thing you can do to us

Listen to the legendary’s quote it gets addictive

Hip hop is not a disease it’s just something that I’m sick with

Ayo I’m verbally vicious, you nervously suspicious

And niggas never talk to me straight, always curving your pitches

Call me Urban Religious, life is learning the difference

I’m on the fifth floor with burgundy slippers observing you bitches

Murdering snitches is not a new thing, we move things

Bacardi and Smoke, hardly provoke, is how we do things

I never sell out sisters like slave traders sold brothers

If you bought one of the Godsons hits, you a

Respect my rhyme

Like I respect tittyless chicks with chest like mine

I live right next to crime

You not the foulest nigga but you neck and neck with swine

Smoking cess with dimes knowing we gonna be the next to shine

Even as the sperm cell of daddy’s scrotum my niggas knew I’d be iller

When my tail knock down The Empire State Building like Godzilla

My thoughts are God killer, giving track

Ras Kass

Remember how I dismember your members fo' rella?

Sucka, you couldn’t get me back if you was directly behind me

Or standing on my spine wearing low jack, B

The Articulate Thug, articulate 38 slugs

So niggas better Duck like Donald and Daffy

I live life like a dyke so fuck y’all niggas

Fuck them three mics in The Source

My force is to be reckoned with

My mental mechanism is this

Eight feet tall, squeezing my balls

I’ll break your backboard while sporting TWISM

Domingo put me on so naturally I comes off

Eyes China, chocolate skinned bitches think I’m Dominicona

(So take that, take that)

Cause Babe Ruth hated blacks

I’m off to Hell and beat that devil with Sammy Sosa’s bat

Ya heard?

Captain.

The target’s been located.

Lock on the microphone.

Microphone’s locked

on.

They’re in the line of fire

Yo, a lot of real niggas died but I survived mad shit

Hustling on the strip eating fried crab sticks

I’m a live bastard

Your hood I drive past it

Shawty thought my dick was small I surprised that bitch

I love myself, I wanna hug myself

But how can I judge you when I’m a thug myself?

Nobody put a nigga on, I had to plug myself

Stole whips, bust slugs, touched drugs as well

No drinks at the bar is a disgrace

I run with a bunch of ugly niggas that got scars on they face

And fire arms on they waist

Make it 'Nam in this place

If you say, «F ain’t the bomb» then you’re

I hold it down like gravity

On grounds of strategy I crown the casualty

Survive the agony, slide before the fives try bagging me

My capacity is a glossary of atrocity as a prophecy

I’ll be damned if niggas cram to understand Bam’s animosity

I’ll surface with a purpose, disperse verses of revelation

Lurk the Earth without getting murked in this diverse thirst and desperation

I write agitated trife, affidavits of life

Despite aggravated, stagnated, infatuated with mics

But doe I unfold untold chapters I’m molding rappers

My stature rapture beat niggas in the head until they skull fracture

Now who’s doing the damaging when rambling?

Bam' the vandal and scandalling, live gambling

Survive by scrambling