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…