Dead Bent

It go like, I hold mics like the Statue of Liberty Holds the torch viewed throughout the New York vicinity Is you kiddin’ me? I half ‘em like fractions To be specific, smash a rapper back into atoms When you broke out I thought “Good riddance, don’t come back, son” Pardon me, God Allah Born Equality Call me G, R.I.P. like a creepy headstone They never get the message like he in a 3G dead zone Phone a plumber, ‘cuz we always got the pipes out It’s like “He’s a super…” I’ll turn your lights out I had this dream ever since I was a teen To eat the competition on some Idi Amin It goes, highly intelligent battle slang Still hopin’ this rappin’ thang Will come back around like a Batarang I seen you in the stands at the game But I already had the ball Grip came through raw like Big Daddy Kane In ’88 plus 22, now I got a flow to pull the mic like a rug right out from under you A Rec show is so super-fun You know the crew and them Rhymers who make you wanna go stupid dumb Offend rappers like “Fuck you” Your verse is a no-show, or so-so, we will overdub you And don’t feel the least regret Except for once, when one of my punchlines Beat MCs to death Scientific like Reed Richards or Hank Pym He spent all of his time behind bars like the state pen Too many wrong moves and you gon’ lose Amateurs with Pro-Tools We go off like a blown fuse The whole crew burn you like “Zing!" In your face, yo Grip is livin’ larger than a social worker caseload Fresh... If you say so, we just don’t buy it The rec is unbeatable. P.S.—Don’t try it What’s the secret? If I told you, I’d have to kill you, it’s classified It wouldn’t be the first time that a rapper died The Rec team destroy emcees who thought they was major league Stomp ‘em out like Gore-Tex ACG's And at the end of that, I go back in time And write some more mind-bending rap I told ‘em don’t front, it’s the truth Don’t shoot the messenger Stay tuned for more spine-tingling adventures of…