EXTENDED F@MM

EXTENDED F@MM - Murder In The Verse Degree lyrics

[Chorus]

Gulity. Murder In The Verse Degree

Nationwide, cops on a search for me

Martial Law, state of emergency

Because I'm Guilty, Murder In the Verse Degree

[V1: SESSION]

Session, will be the next cat ya idolize

worshipped for thousand of years after my demise

so I'd advise you try to hide, cause 4 you'd get divided by

lyrically, you could be me, and we still wouldnt see I to I

Judge Session this court's presided by, and you tried to lie

under oath, hand on my notebook, without a alibi

that a guy, you better quit now while you got spine fluid

fuck rap, I'll grab a blade and set your mind to it

I knew it, ya dome has over blown gas

in a trunk kissin ya own ass is were they gonna find you in

divine human, rhymin for days, finish off foes

my mind is a maze, were minotaurs roam

I got a senators dome, politikin to get my tape played

and get paid, flow off the chains like escaped slaves

make way, I'm strapped wit explodin rhymes

put the track to ya ear, take cover and blow ya mind

[Chorus]

[V2: SESSION]

in raps you facin, someone causin lacerations to blast ya face in

and make you wear a mask like Jason

you harass the nation wit procrastination

make you leave the game as fast as Mason like its an evacuation

tax evasion, if you owe me

make ya face look like a patch of raisins, my concepts an immaculation

use imagination like masterbation

a fans fascination turns to infatuation cause I'm past amazin

the hash I'm blazin will make me look like half a asian

spit leave your habitation wit heavy saturation

the fact you wastin my time, runnin what you outta do

before I slaughter you, make your offensive lines do an audible

you know what? its somewhat honorable

cause suckin as hard as you do must be hard to do too

gettin served like I ordered you food, I'm the best at rhymes

packin my number 2's to withstand the test of time

so hold it if you wanna hold it, dog this mic's mine

Im not ahead of my time, I'm ahead of my life's time

got the tight lines, ill voice and a harder flow, so you outta go

thinkin you nice and get robbed for ya heart of gold

[Chorus]

[V3: SESSION]

On mixtapes I spit straight atcha bruh, and massacre

ambassadors, get papes, and laugh at ya

I'll rip fakes and amatuers in two and battle half a ya

get raped, askin round the cypha how my dick taste when I rap witcha

I mastered the flow wit a bit rate of that crap of ya's

no mistake if I ask for ya, make ya bitch date a bachelor

you a disgrace, suckin like Dracula wit a big plate, makin an ass of ya

you aint a legend cause you switched plates wit a Acura

at this rate, Ima fracture the bones on ya rib plates

and snatch ya cadaver right out the back of da mid waist

I punch the earth and hit plates like a spatula

swing were your hips lay, unless you hit play on my sampler

make ya chic wait?, I'm snatchin her, have my dick ate

while I'm smackin the bitch face, and its late for mackin her

they say my shits great, spectacular

thinkin its smooth sailin till I have ya own shipmates attackin ya

[Chorus]

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