Untitled Songtext

von K-Otix

We keep it heated to the core, through the floor
Like the China syndrome, make it known
Bring it forth, hellfire and brimstone
Microphone mercenaries doing hits for free
Sick of truth and fragile motherfuckers delicately
Definitely never competing with the K-O-T
I expect you will agree we don't accept the wack
D-town to H-town we causing heads to crack
Ceremony track masters as a matter of fact
Taking back what is rightfully mine, time to shine
Every line I design a syllable and a rhyme
Got your mind playing tricks
Every time making hits, DJ's making the mix
You keep banging my shit
We keep changing the pitch to lyrical excellence
The triple threaded weather with mic perfectionist
Better meditate, escalate the rhyme, time to elevate
Melt wax to make it difficult to set the record straight

With more power than a spark plug
Termite cause to live wire
A rhyme writer that spit higher than split fire
We street fighters with kicks tighter than Ryu
I burn crews with rhymes hotter than Thai food
With no flaw, I leave you with no jaw
See we hard core, frame of mind against the law
I'm setting up MC's for the Coup de Grace
Just when I write no protection, straight raw
It gets colder, I told the margin to move over
These boulders, that I spit can break shoulders
My pap' and pen pack more poison than king cobras
I flip folders to make your team fold up
Hold up, ain't no time outs, the game's over
K-Otix in the marquee, the name's slower
Ain't no protection from this flame thrower
Steady scooping your girl because I can't show her, HUH
I'm the game and I'm that damn good
Coming off like Lorenzo's in bad neighborhoods
You should, better yourself before you try to step up
I'll be on the next level waiting for you to catch up

I play the low with my hat tilted
And spit rhymes so raw, cats will be like
"Hey yo, Krack killed it"
Black and brilliant, I with metaphors
And spit better bars, like years ahead of yours
Hit beats like tether balls, more brains than brawn
Me and K-Otix is here to bring the shame to your songs
Your name belongs on a long list of homo thugs
Krack's model of the moment, show no love
MC's be talking about that their styles is fly
But their records wouldn't sell if they didn't drink with princess Dai
And he had a new program, that he recorded last week
Your flow's less than booty, it's more like ass cheek
Mad weak MC's, they better get muscle banned
I'm like Tyson screaming "Fuck it dog, let's go another round"
I make you underground using physical force
Rip out your ad in The Source and put a [?] in your [?], you dork