Cashus Clay - Exclusive (A Trip Below) lyrics

[Intro: Poison Pen, (Kwest Tha Madd Lad), and {D-Stroy}] Stronghold. (Mix Squad [?]). What? {Uh, uh} [Bridge 1: D-Stroy] Which emcees is up next to squeeze? With ‘nough expertise? [?] [Verse 1: Poison Pen (of Stronghold)] Man who get hyped type to get queefed You didn't realize an emcee [?] And got many casualties in battles. Doctors give my adversaries Freebies. Flow in 3-D like Dolly Parton bras Don't care who you are. We shooting for the stars Like solarity stalkers, lyrical wizardry. Sometimes I wish these emcees rhymed between parentheses Mention me to herbs and they stay silent ‘cause, word up Straight up and down wiling like wider mommas who wear cups The world live more violently. You tried to get your Poison Use my style against me, I'm immune to my own poison Employ us soldiers. n***as getting set up by females When used as your verdict, you getting Unabombed through emails It's pitiful. d**h from initiation ritual Full-fledged MVP, master of the lyrical Poison Pen [?], not a grip, precisely skip it My man look Medusa in the eye. Now we got our flavor [Verse 2: Freestyle (of The Arsonists)] [?]. n***as'll get beat up. I'm quick to erupt I'm ripping that a** in half—even if we signed a prenup I'm looney, but f** fighting. I'm putting hundred percent On it and my n***as is still shutting it, brother, so you don't want it Half-a**ed emcees, I'm breaking them down in fractions of a second Hundreds are losing homes. Cracking domes faster [?] Don't bother asking who done it. Y'all know I did it Flipped and ripped your arm the f** off and knocked your man out with it That's how our cards are dealt. I'll make sure my presence is felt Rock dope as I cast through the asteroid belts My rhymes and this militia malicious, fulfilling your filthy wishes D-Stroy and Freestyle, we'll be in sync/sink like dirty dishes Incinerating the imitating, never procrastinating Your wig could get split. The jig is your sh**'s full of traumatization Illest demonstration. Your incubation's just beginning I'm spinning like wax from x-rays tables and winning [Verse 3: Breez Evahflowin' (of Stronghold)] To battle me's beyond risk. I'm iller than the morgue gets Good-night type flicks. Not the fight with chicks but I'll write With bricks to leave ‘em toothless when they bite this ish Your crew be like, “Yo, he's aight with this” Check it. Priceless gems stem from the pen Fems find attractive like I'm rapping for them Tapping them skits, winning with flows you can't stage Stronghold, Arsonists hooking up Fort Flambé Your man be a man. Then he heard me and he lost it Brought your applications for your local post office Lose your mic interest or get sacked at fourth and inches The Fifth Element utilizing Sixth Senses Deadly like Seven Sins, the Eighth Wonder In my lifetime, Volume Number Nine drop Dimes On crews, who'll still be back there, checking One, Two Confront you with ghetto Ebonics like Onyx [Verse 4: D-Stroy (of The Arsonists)] I'ma destroy standing in my D-Stroy stance Like Channel Nine, I'ma make you pee in your pants You got a lady brother. Run to her. I'm the punisher Up in the battles, toe-to-toe, I'm making fun of ya Arsonists the top of the line, rocking the rhyme Stack in your mind, make you want to kiss my co*k and behind Stop and rewind until it's understood. You crumbs should Do some good and listen to this one hood. None of you Bums could ever beat this here ‘cause I'll defeat you, queer What you believe is fear. Battle you for your Easter gear Disturbing, trying to have it quicker than that nasty rabbit ‘Cause we back and me and mic like Costello and Abbott Satisfying, you live like addicts. The Rican they appoint “The Crazy” I'll rip mics apart like what doctors do with jointed babies Showing you G's, we clever, growing like trees You never knowing the steez, forever blowing like Breez [Verse 5: Arjay (of P-Pullz)] Heavy with merchandise, wise and input data chip Info like computer chip with verses like banana clip Whether with the penmanship or roasting property Turban, I give turbulence. The weak [?] Emcees, peep it please, listen to my demolition In constant collision, they're yelling, “Put that guy in prison!” I cut them off like traffic. Life ain't fair But is it fair I'm going to get? Mess around with me I'm coming after you like, “Flee!” My style's nice But half-evil like 333. R-A-B From the P-Pullz, number one. Rock you like rebels Without a gun. Dripping. Like beef does, I'm flipping Off the hook like cow carca** ready for shipping I'll see you slipping into darkness, decreasing Like the harmless, you ain't reaching. Very refuted truth Brush my toothbrush like hands, lasting Ever battling like Carvel and Baskin Falalala! [Verse 6: Kwest Tha Madd Lad] Wack emcees hate him, never could appreciate or tolerate him So when they test, I'll select the text that'll sedate or obliterate ‘em Let my verbatim penetrate and disintegrate ‘em Leaving radios and [?] out of this world creationator Don't get caught sleeping or I'll distort your thought sleepers Your infant mom will cry, “[?],” to the mic core Kevorkian Lines slide throughs it and lubricant ooze within tube distance From the music and who's mission is to get you to listen acoustic A hallucinogen is produced when the pen is introduced To the spin of my palm, forming a bond that creates the face lines That lace minds like stimulus when chopped percussion and samples Invented, then words I state make ca**ette tapes Transform shape and escape decks to inject havoc like [?] The humblest savage equipped with a carriage Of those who mumble the average. Offs your hip hop caucus Stop minds twenty-one thous' six hundred seconds faster You mic check before you catch wreck. When I bless Check I'm after you ba*tards