JWSB Bootleg #2 (Milton Brandy)

I'm a step above the rest, getting fresh off my own breath

So don't fret, a go-getter go gets his own checks

Told you, reckless with the 1-2

Neckless is the crowd when I'm venting on the prowl like I'm supposed to

Ghosts coast to coast, going postal

When they hear the joke master roasting on these cats

Battling in my mind, cause really I don't have half the time

To slice half the rhymes down to make sure these cats survive

Nah I don't want my record getting criminal

Just maybe some beatings with the black eyes for visuals

Status is critical, giving rappers rickets

When I'm spitting like a spigot, for sure that's the ricochet

These flakes getting half baked when sam baker flip it, man

Shaking like he making fans fake laker tickets

The stans understand make 'em wait until the minute

That I drop what they should cop, you hear it on the block

Man my rapping's so cold that it be running from the cops

Gunning cousins with the smock on, for the slop I drop on

The folks hobnobbing 'bout the knocks that we rock on

I'm here to rotate that rock that we talk on

So go hate, rapper's heads swelling like a prostate

Hitting the remission cause they fishing with no bait

So no bite, no mike tyson fight

Lying guys dissing with their crying eyes pissing

But they stylized, missing, sickened demise is my obliged mission

I hide for a surprise when they find you guys knitting, smitten

Windpipes, the sky's high so climb the sides

Sounds surreal but I psych it up until the mic is cut

And even after that making heads dizzy, call it famish rap

Dishing out lavish scraps, tap into my madams

Wishing like aladdin that I had 'em

That was back when before I was attacking all these rap dens

I took a little break but now I'm back in so clap, man