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Heavy is heaven

C.o.T. > Saltee Nutz >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Composured Artists

The devil on me too times two...

Ayo, I think I'm quitting. I'm quitting rap battling. I'm just gon do non-battle flows and cyphers from now on. You can delete my name in the list, Tribe.

When did X step in that sneaky b*****d/
Shinobi catchin cases like Kobe,lyrical d**k in my master/
But catch this hes a she,bout to see a lynchin spree/
Tho the scaly coated emcee makes escaping a breeze/
Pass the damn Raid,dudes aproachin like flees/
Pop the p***y if he want beef,I throw gimmicks to my knees/
Saltee Nutz duke reachin higher than trees/
Keepin it simple for jackas,take the flow then flee/
My next move is to throw ideas that are above me
This is just 1 lock to my mind,not even a complex key

They say get it crackin but it get to smackin on a lame G/
Lyrical knockout on dudes so they see Ali/
Jabs turn to stabs, listen to wind that you can't see/
Like Kyo's Mizuchi I got heavenly strikes/
X in route to death but I cheated it twice/
Put down the mic you ain't no type of emcee/
I rap like Shakespeare, to be or not to be/
To exist to diss and die in my lyrical piss/
Or live and abide by my rhyming gift/
Lets make a shift to a new scene of gaining the dream/
The team's beam point blank on the maindtream scheme/
Listen the sun, only twelve hours to do it/
Then son goes down for darkness, had your chance but you blew it/
What route are you chosin, honor or cash/
Honor is a infinity, cash a minute, fast/
So I last forever while your gimmick's you limit/
Invunerable even if I lose a battle/
In the end I'm the sheperd, you're still the cattle/

single handed

I don't have to care anymore 'bout photobucket bandwidth,
never gave s**t 'bout e-wars jus' ******** all that s**t.
I can't get some cash for this s**t, not even a loan.
I jus' get payed off in gaia gold.
I'll jus' get layed off in buyin' monthly collectibles,
on the internet my future's selectable.
Hey, how many pixels on ya' avi?
I'm so underground cuz' excessive pixelized bling I be ******** this whole damn digital disater,
I aint' leavin' yet, jus' reachin' the end faster
which is marked by a ********' fire wall?
I pimped out my comp wit' a modem for free-wired calls.
Connection found, so now I'm hopin' for what?
A ********' enchanted box
with wings.
And now I say, with mod's speed
that this aint' just another spam mail,
it's the whole damn scam sale.
And yet I'm still here in this damn sticky,
and if ya' don't like me ya' aint' a mod, can't kick me.
Ya' can't punch me, stomp me,
stuck in a seat behind a comp screen.
But just drag it out, drag it out,
like how I drag e-bouts about.
At least til' I've dropped a few lines,
Freeflow: Mak, Frac. To the outside: Bloo, Lime.
And I'm still rappin' for the people, not pixels,
why aint' you, pixel? Still call ya'self lyrical?
I still stand firm on my seat, appraising the majority callin' ya'll good typers,
but through a screen how we know ya' accurate if ya' jus' a pixelized sniper?
But I still try to see a reason for believin'
through this third-world screenin'
of gaian rappers, battlers, and hagglers
where the biggest threat is named Lanzer.
From square one to square two,
-oh s**t I mean pixels-I cut the floor wit' my red phat shoes
a set pumpkin headphones, some balc in da hood pants, and a scarf called autumn glory,
if ya' don't like me the worst thing ya' can do is click a frowny face to ignore me.
Oh s**t I got a virus in my computer. Oh, that's jus' good ol' Vyrus.
Wit' his $200 dollah' mic, my gaia gift card can't afford those prices.
I got yet another scam mail in for a steal from some guy askin' for a bribed test.
Replied wit' a diss so memorable he'll never forget A Tribe Called Breast.
But I keep my e-structured cranium held high,
muggin' Gaia cash shops for freebis nailed by
the firewall, filled wit' illegal downloads and viruses, so now death be thy program
an' I still eatin' the Apple from the hands of not my savior but a snow-blind old man.
General discussion for the dunces paTrolling the e-a** 'burbs.
An' now speak to a Mod for consolling, but never see answers.
Touchdown! Now donate all ya' Gaia cash to pac mules
while the Patriot rebellion resides in terms of lacked rules.
Uber haXXors muggin' me day-in day-out while I play slots for some quick gold, e-cash.
Oh s**t man, I only got 8-Diagrams rung up on the meter so far from the Big Doe Rehab.
So I jus' invest in the Market stocks.
But I always seam to target flops.
An' I run-run as far away from e-fights as my bones rattle listenin'
but then I gotta' camp in Gaia worlds waitin' for a lone Battle System.
Wack keystylers jump in for the ride an' end up bitin' the dust quicker than an ad's free prize.
They never existed to me, jus' a mass of illusions in my eyes but later in life as these lies:
The position of wealth through skill as we all sit 'round a piece of software for the kill,
changin' chambers as quickly as cyber wardrobes boundin' these dumb blocks' airborn then still
in this mass of weightless vision fueled by strength in the fingers
an' yet some cats spend their time braggin' 'bout bein' bangers.
Now raise ya' asses in a toast to the ones who surrender the fastest.
Pourin' ya' s**t in masses while the humble stay behind jus' for laughin'
at the ones wit' the shine in their eyes of anger, oh wait that's jus' a glare
not that either way there's a known female-made form of known repair.
An' now I'll jus' spin my rotatable seat, but I'm never quite dizzy,
'cept when I catch a glimpse of the starting view of this ending
but not quite an epilogue to e-frustration, of these dumb stations
of punch-sobered begginings, a sequal's vacation could make done
this introduction to the good, the bad, and the false identity
represented by a same-weight, same shaped cause-blind enemies.
Not fighters, jus' strugglers in a one-sided grammar error
but if this was life, false words are simply stammared matters.
So I keep tickin' away til' my big bang. Boom.
But now another time bomb now awaits you.
So jus' take a space back, but there's no editing in the seat
so jus' stay on the comp an' fast forward, rewind, repeat.
Blackout, left cold dumb.
Yet I still feel heat from the modem.
While 2girls1cup is somehow leavin' Bushes wit' sloppy dicks
the helmets on guns plan attacks on a stack of floppy discs.
Tha Saltee Nutz Gang, keystylin' for extra cash rolls paying,
oh look at that, I got a stash of Gaia gold an' a Daily Chance.

I hold all of your cards X is the tarot man/
Past, present and future is what I hold in my hand/
Cram the cards into a deck outta respect/
And give to you and say here's ya life do ya best/
But one card I pulled out to keep within reach/
It reads death of the flesh, next time you step to the keep you will weep/
For in one burning, ripping or cuting I end your feats/
Lose whats dear as a tear rolls down ya cheek/
Now quiet cause you're meek afraid of an instant defeat/
Speak out of line and I'll put the card in my back pocket/
And take a seat, crushing you with the knowlegde of a prophet/

Lol, too busy in the freewflow to drop here...I'll see you in about four days(In the guild)