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Braggin' Writes (Revisited)
J-Live
Popularity ยท Moderate
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For underground metaphors
You can scrape an inch below the turf for what it's worth
My style's been developed in the core of the Earth
The exhale's volcanic the inhale is seismic
So brothers just panic when the Live one arrives with
The natural ability to run through your crew
From 2-1-4, 2-1-3, to 2-1-2
In other words from Dallas to L.A., to the place where J stay
Everyday is mayday
So you can talk your shit on how you're wettin MC's
with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain
I'm lookin on your brain with disdain
Go back and reflect on my endeavors black I can't complain
It's like a raw deal, consistant with the way I make you feel
The ends stay revealed while the means I conceal
And those who try to steal get decapitated
You wanna snatch my H2O type flow, that shit evaporated
I displays my credentials over instrumentals
And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential
It's detremental fuckin'wit my thesis
The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis
I rip your shit to pieces after drainin out your fluid
My vocab is fluent yours is evident of being truant
I know you wanna make moves but son you best to take a second look
Before my knight takes your rook
Cause everybody's rappin, and only few can flow
So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know
I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
So if you come with bull, kid, keep it on the low
Cause yo, I got the hairsplittin, self-written unbitten style
that leaves the competition running scared and shittin' in their pants
You best to set it off cause black it aint no second chance
once I'm open, all you doin is hopin' that the Live one
will put the mic down, but son don't try to snatch it after
The laughter won't cease from the comparison, how dare you son
Step around the booth when I'm on
The microphone magician says poof, you're gone with the wind
There's no trace of your friends cause you don't know where the
beginning ends or where the end begins
But you see that's the difference, you get sold, I get paid
Black I told you, get paid
If you're broke I'll have to rain on your parade
You belong in if you think you
J-Live with the mic is like the chef with the blade
Cause suckers get sliced and sauteed
Yeah, you thought your joint was fly but the flight was delayed
Because everybody's rappin, but only few can flow
So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know
I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
So if you come with bull, kid, keep it on the low
Yes everybody's rappin, but only few can flow
So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know
I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
So if you come with bull, kid, keep it on the low
Cause yo, I take the grey matter of pretenders
through my mental blender, and then return to sender
My pen don't pretend to offend
I intend to render MC's, hangin loose like a fender bender
I recommend regardless of your gender
That you strike fuckin' with J-Live from your agenda
And remember that whoever lends a helpin hand to defend ya
Will get burned to a cinder
As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies
Renderin me sick, with the thoughts of killin; enemies
But then I return to reality
Metaphorically murderin MC's when they battle me
You can't rattle me
I'm not your average snake slitherin through the grass
I surpass the serpeant as I head the class
You consider me crass as I wax that ass
Style's no joke, but you best believe I gets the last laugh
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