La the Darkman Freestyle

[La the Darkman] Yeah, Tone Touch, Power Cypha MC's *In Jamaican tone* Yeah, ya mon know alot of dat cum from killen I run da place, take it from me (real gun talk) The fortified nine millime Yo Darkman King, doin my thing the bee sting Assassinate your whole team wit the vocal red beam Sold yourself a dream, I sharpen my script as an arrow Professional and live, my style double-barrel I Self Lord, Master natural disaster Holy sling to splash ya, dark force to thrash ya Blind eyes, poligimous got four wives Inside my square, rappers get buried alive We never even, put you in the dirt still breathin Perfection, the gold mic touch dun, I'm blessin Flames lit the flesh, shot at some of the best When Dell played me at my rest, stabbed a kid in his chest Now I got respect, runnin through boroughs, hoods and towns Niggas pull they pants down when I show the four pound Verbally, fantastic, cocked my rhyme, blast it Trapicante classic, gun talk gymnastic The Bronx back to Brooklyn got my slang cold cookin Pull up in my four-hundred, mad bitches be lookin And I'm a rude boy, wit lyrics to seek and destroy My gold tec gonna blast niggas from here to Quebec Yo I'm Bronx-born, Brooklyn-raised You niggas get more than grazed, when I blaze my gauge It's not a arcade, dun my gun is real as AIDS I'm Holyfield, rappers is Tyson these days, Darkman