Don't you be worryin 'bout my tail size, child -
that $hit be docked, aero-Doberman-style
you can peep it witcho eyes while I be on the podium, eatin French fries
but my predictable victory is all you'll be able to see, I surmise
You think I left this fight? Ice was just takin a break,
satisfyin the svelte Flemish 'vrouwen' while wheel-suckin Italians loungin with they fake & bake
I'll take this rap battle to the far and near, incineratin wannabe-rap-makin cyclists
while my UV rays ionize their lily-white ass way up in the thermosphere
What's that I hear? Can't keep pace with this rhymin heat?
That's why they call me Icy y Hot, 'cause I chill while I burn this beat
straight into the virginal eardrums of so-called MCs - my mojo is the new nuovo
so step aside, the rest a you new jacks might as well be lip-syncin Easy E...
Thursday, May 22, 2008
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