Semantic Attack

[Verse]

There is no one above me, no one behind me

Nobody around here that could outmatch or -rhyme me

I’m still grimy, the rhymes still fiery

I’m on my grind this environment is mine g

The antibiotic flow, dry, ironical

The Chronicle, gon´ beat you with the conical

What did you say? It’s comical

You evaporate to fume ´cuz my shit is hot – lava flow

What’s your problem my man I just came back

You adlibbing try to spit the same track…ASAP

Not with this shit here this is the payback

DJs say it’s too hard but have to play that

Not whack like you with all your gay acts

No airplay still present with no pay checks

Hot rhymes that make you step your game back

Take a pen try’na write hot shit while I’m laid back

A role model for writing is what you see in me

No big deal for me, that’s why I rhyme easily,

I just don’t understand where faggots are coming from

Mass-mirror the website my lyrics are published on

So we could finally see who got the better rhymes

I could go for hours and nobody would have recognized

You better hide, ´cause it’s preferable to homicide

Mothers cried, ´cause their kids tried to fuck with mines

Unqualified…fucks…get back

Let me step to the mic…and catch wreck

At best, you catch that, but no respect

And fags who got cash coming out there ass crack

Get mad wet, when I roll up on the set

In a Twin turbo Vette with the twin turbo Tec

The metal body-builder, they call it the Ferrari killer

Bigger intercooler in case the AC doesn’t chill us

And I roll with better bitches

They don’t get into ridiculous looking Cadillac’s on 26’s

Back on topic, nobody could have stopped it

I fly to the sky like a 3 stage rocket

I breathe life into zeros and ones

In form of a wav file using all zeros at once

All you talk about is more money and bigger cars

You’re the next one that I challenge to write 50 bars

And the other half that always talks about rapping,

And Hip-Hop’s return and that they gon make it happen

Guess what…I wanna see a hundred bars by you

Cause if you as tight as you say it shouldn’t be hard for you

You wanna see what I got, you’re getting it

I’m spittin it automatic like cybots

You’re in your room with pen and paper on the table

Microphone speakers and a USB Cable

Everything tied up and you think that you able

To write tight shit and then send it to the labels

Bitch please let me tell you…call me the teacher

In the Biz Tom Jeefs is a fable creature

They want features, shout outs and reach out

Ok, don’t worry, I’ma stop to preach now…

The last thing I wanna say is that it’s a made biz

Never go against Tom Jeefs ‘cause then you’re safe, kid.