a late night blown off my ass slow beat verse, anyone on my level, add on if you want

[K-oTiK]

if you feel it, feel free to add on it, spit it to something hard and slow

how you goin a battle a man who keeps it lyrically confidental.../
who's dismembering your whole carrer oppertunity potenial.../
spittin so fast, if i hit the brakes, i'd fuck up the deferental.../
conceptual beats, over some hard ass lyrics.../
equals me knockin bitches off their feet, till they're elevated like a spirit.../
defusing emcee's like a broken curcuit, or an overdose victum trippin off perceset.../
leaving all these speed readers illeterate, and bitches smoked up like a cigerette.../
silencing every rap critic, that says a white boy can't ever verbally spit it.../
cause i'll leave you belitteled like a little square wheat trisquit.../
always saying i'm just another tragic white suburbia statitistic.../
how do you say that to man who's just mentally sadistic.../
what ever, just cause i spit under any weather, and still make it seem artisitic.../
this is more than an introduction, to my lyrical suduction.../
and don't let me fail to mention, that i can spit in multiple dimensions.../
and come at you in three hundred and sixty different directions.../
breaking you off into sections, till i see spiritual desmemberment.../
your eternal dissappearance, a life altering experience.../
something you can't reverse, something you can't even attempt to rehearse.../
taking your greatest posession, something i can't even re-emburse.../
at least not until your rebirth, even then, we'll still see what your lifes really worth.../
cause i stand out like-purf,-,erations, with mind bending altercations.../
that cause nationwide demenstrations, cause very few like my interpertations..../
of this bullshit united nation, cause rich dicks runnin politics caused this economial deflation.../

i'm through...add on all you want

 

[K-oTiK]

fuck it, we'll take this to part two, you can't guess want i'm lyricaly about to do.../
i'm about to finish the last of this brew, and mangle everyone in this cypher crew.../
oop's did i cypher, nah more like a group of rookies still wearing childhood diapers.../
how do you battle aginst a man whos brain is naturally hyper.../ spittin verbs faster than a typewriter.../
but i'm mentally gone, the o.e. has me feeling wrong.../
too many bowls out the bong, so call me the lyrical ghost writer.../
than man whos elevated to a place much higher, beyond even god's greatest desire.../
cause i spit hits that lyrically inspire the lyrical fire, burnin like a fiasco.../
lines that are more hotter on the tounge of a lyrical meance than green tabasco.../
i make shit seem more dramatical, than a room full of recently made widows.../
what happens when i say shit thats sacrafical, to your advanced lyrcial dismisal.../
makin your shit seem molescule, and open to unmentionable amounts of ridicule.../
cause everything you say is contradictual, to your constant bullshitin ritual.../

still pervin, i'll be back tomarrow night in the same mind state

 

[K-oTiK]

-it's no mystery, can't you see i'm the greatest emcee, in hip hop history.../
-its no mystery, that i work psychologicaly, against your mental labatomie.../
-usin telekenthesis, to write my final thesis, leaving you lyrcially in pieces.../
-puttin the old in old navy fleeces, rapin all your nieces, shittin lyrics out like bio-fesis.../
-never imitated, been voted verbally x-rated, broken emcees become rehabilitated.../
-when i fade it, and seperate it from confertations, complications then deflated.../
-but for the duration, i'll set my standards with no limitations, with no miscommunication.../
-get your education, and rule the nation without any hesitation or intimidation.../
-knowledge is the power, power spits every hour, and every hour i devoure your power.../
-the definition of a coward, is a bitch that gets devoured, and is easily over-powered.../
-the definition of a king, is a man that's seldom seen, except in your worst dreams.../
-walkin with a limp, not a lean, fuck a low budget pimp, become a college dean.../
-i hate to be vein, but it's time for real lyrcists to regin, not faggots abusing cocaine.../
-buying airplanes, cars, dames, buying everything including your own fame.../
-it seems shits gone insane, but i honestly can't complain, just stay ahead of the game.../
-run shit within your own lane, never chase brain, and never abuse your own name.../

 

[K-oTiK]

i sit back, and relax, with a fat Q-P sack, contemplating my greatest get back.../
thinkin how sick i am of rap soundin like crap, sick of people gettin paid for being wack.../
i want to chase em back across the tracks, and erase them from the hip hop map.../
fuck stories from your youth, spit stories of fact, cause when i'm in the loot, i'll still twist a 89 cadillac.../
i'll stay real, with the original gangster deville, with the rusted grill, with stock wheels, and i bet you will.../
become jealous, but until then, i'll still spit on the 9-1 siccness, even when shit becomes ridiculous.../
and i spit shit of murderous brilliance, fuck your affliats, i'll ride solo, till i come out with a legence.../
of real cap pealers and drug dealers, a group of real casket sealers.../
and fuck your spiritual healers, lookin for spiritual guidance.../
cause nothing will save you from the upcoming lyrical violence.../
cause no one listens anyways, until one day, you spit something controversal.../
then it seems everyone has something to say, then how going you say, your gangster when your really commercial.../