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CALL ME THE WORLDS WORST DOCTOR CUZ I GOT NO (PATIENCE) PATIENTS & I COULD NEVER WORK IN A RESTARAUNT CUZ I HATE WAITING

WHEN IT COMES TO DRUGS IM GAY CUZ I PREFER THE BOY (HEROIN) OVER THE GIRL (COCAINE) NE DAY

I DONT DO COCAINE OR SMOKE WEED BUT I DRINK & POP DERIVATIVES OF THE POPPY SEED

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i want war
iam im that raw
i got niggas boxing till they bleed from they jaw
untill i see them fall
they aint goin no where untill they clean the floor
its sparkly clean just like how i adore
its so shiny u could see ur reflection on it
i watched that ass jiggle
after that my pant's wiggle
i got to go fuck her
put the rubber
she ask me to do the same thing i did to her to her mother
she begging for more u could see that mouth in hunger

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I see alot of lil cats steady stuntin on the website//
Internet thuggin, with imaginary lead pipes//
Me I'm puffin piff by the pounds til I'm dead right//
The money In my thoughts even when I'm gettin head type//
Top shotta bitch, so all u see Is info red lights//
Raised In Jamaica, the jungles, the Dread life//

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I can see the difference by region in these rhymes.

South = money, whips, diamonds blah blah blah

East = guns, coke, weed, blah blah blah

Come on people, switch it up, talk the truth. Most of you are just kids on a PC cuz I doubt Thisis50.com loading on your sidekick while you're "huggin" the block.

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I grind the streets like slaughter houses grind the beef/

no retreat dog i neva back down i creep/

up on ya like foreigners that sneak into the us/

i do this for the love cuz there aint no benifits/

i got mouths to feed, by any mean i get that dough up/

make it rise quick like yeast, ima beast so step ya flow up.

check it out http://letsgetmoneyentertainment.ning.com/?xgi=6YnTcnJ

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Reading that almost made me throw up

Not because it's sick...but because it sounds like shit

Stop

Sorry, I hate to sound like a cop

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Now is ya got damn crazy?
Talkin like the Doc can't spit, pussy nigga why you play me?
I'm on the block like Orlando.
I'm on Pace right now to have a condo in Orlando.
A sunny beach.
You fuck with me I'll take your blood like a hungry leach.
Nigga reach and it's a ruler to ya fuckin hand.
He act up and it's a ruger to ya fuckin man.
Fuck with me. I am so ready for a beef.
You brought a burger but I got the cow with me.
Matta fact, the bitch got mad cow disease.
So you muthafuckas die if that bitch sneeze.
I squeeze, the hammer let the shots off.
I'm physical so grab my nuts and then bitch cough.
I'm a boss.
Yeah, take this shit as a loss.
Yeah you niggas is Jay-Z, yeah ya lost one.
New chopper so, even if I lost guns,
I can still break ya punk ass off proper son.
I'm the Doctor son.
I eat ya ass up in less than eight bars. I call my flow the fuckin octagon.
Now what the fuck you on?
It gotta be some good,
if you thinkin you can fuck wit my nigga Shug.
Or me, or that muthafucka Bang.
I pull out that thang, blow out ya brains.
Yeah, Gas House niggas stand up.
And all you pussy ass muthafuckas better man up.
I tear ya girl up.
Hit cha bitch, had her legs stretched like a muthafuckin rubber band bruh.

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CASTLE NOBLE: (fake ZOE POUND Diss)
“Multiple Bars Massacre”

(66)
Log in motherf*cker, go ahead punch in ya password/
Forgot how to spell ‘gay rapper’ then b*tch change ya password/
We gonna be past words, wit this shot, so take a long sip/
Cause my flows hot as a Grey-Hound Bus-engine after a long trip/

Castle’s been back on his sh*t, I’m who they heard about/
Ima f*ck-up where your words come out, that’s call word of mouth/
My style’s so pretty, I sit down, and they can’t stand me/
Silky smooth, like good hair, cause I got Indian in my Faaamily/

I’m from the old hood where old wips had them bald-heads/
I’ve always been tall so when I got head, I got some tall-head/
Pocket pistols was a fad, like Hats showing the New Tags/
My first Caddi was clean and shaved bald wit a crush Du-Rag/

What you know about guns; gun-clips; or even a gun-lock?/
Lyrically killin you is like killin time, when does the fun stop/
You had to read your Wack Rhymes last time, damn son stop/
And I Rub-It-In every time it’s hot, just like Sun-Block/
I brought you to this site, catch up you SLOW CLOWN/
Cause one gut-kick will f*ckin miscarriage the ZOE POUND/

You’re a wannabe hot, at home, you can maybe boil/
But here you couldn’t shine covered in Chrome and baby oil/
Fool, you’re clumsy on your feet, ya got a stutter in your speech/
My hot muzzle to ya teeth, you’ll rot and cuddled on the beach/
B*tch I walked you to your car, cause you claim you spark a lot/
But the only thing you peeled or pulled out was the parking lot/

My pictures and lyrics at your Bank would bring favors/
You got me on ya wallpaper, ring tones, and screen saver/
I got Real Zoe Family so I aint dissin the real Zoes/
But rats, p*ssy holes, and fake Zoes I kill thoses/
I’ve shot at Paper targets that’s harder than you/
I know old Ladies at Target that spit harder than you/
If I hit you, you’ll either call the police or you’ll call mother/
Poppin guns? B*tch you aint even poppin a small Rubber/

Stealing 50s rhymes, you’re not an Emcee, you’re a Fan/
You the type to back-up shaking wit a Weapon in ya hand/
You never had a chance, your plan-B needed a plan/
You lost, like when you lost your Virginity to a Man/
Yea, TAMMIE was lovin me, damn, you wanted to “F”-TAM?/
Real women love strong men not queers needing a health plan/
You have no game, playa, you couldn’t even be a Ref man/
You’d get murked at your own Party they’ll call it the Death Jam/

I’ve been killin you so long, b*tch murder’s a habit/
Pullin trick b*tches out the hat, but this trick’s not a rabbit/
I’ve made examples out of you P*ssy, so don’t Push me this year/
Before I piss the whole World off by making P*ssy disappear/
Yeah you! You’re a P*ssy, and your threats are an Erotic Song/
Get a Sex change b*tch, cause ya Doctor done Got it Wrong/

To me gun-blast is elementary, but it still make Fools Surprise/
I’ll make gun-class elementary but kill this fake with School Supplies/
Shove pencils in ya Belly-Button till they come outta ya own Butt-Seam/
This Eraser will Move your Face around like an I-PHONE Touch Screen/

I’m the C-A-crooked letter –T-L-E/
I’ll sandwich you fake f*cka like a BLT/
You got a threat to give me, b*tch fax ya worse/
I want to cash that Wolf-check but I’ma tax it first/

I keep them real tiny guns, like STEPHANY MILLS, they Still Hot/
But my Big guns can blow a hole the same size as JILL SCOTT/
You don’t really want beef, do your Teeth a big favor/
You’re faker than Powdered Soup, you don’t even want Beef-Flavor/

I’m a Savior on this Site, wit a broke mic I’ll turn ya light off/
Invest in Breast implants, cause your male-Titties are a write-off/
Heard Bessie called you man-less, I guess cause you got man-breast/
Big boobs or the Teeny-kind, b*tch got gangsta bikini lines/
You’re about a B-Cup, right n*gga? A push-up Bra can’t stop it/
Choke ya dumb-@ss, wit a cordless phone, so ya Call-Block can’t block it/
When Castle’s off the chain n*gga Master-Lock can’t lock it/
My scope-Rocket will Knock ya Left kidney into ya Right coat pocket/ EASY!!

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You could catch me in an all black cadalac,
In the back droppin' my sack in a bitches mouth,
Like a tea bag, Fresh outta rehab,
Like a Giant shoot myself in the knee-cap,
I see that everyday like a free Jag,
So unless you wanna see me beat ass,
When you meet me I suggest you leave me be fag,
So now whats the recap?
I eat ass and they wonder why I leak gas,
I keep gats makin' noise like my soundtrack,
It's a bunch of jibberish cause I'm full of shit,
So... Wabble debabble and suck on my dick,
Cause there ain't no wonder bra that could fit on these tits,
So I'll cover it up with a bottle of gizz,
Why you gotta be so much a parti pris?
With a sour puss like you caught my diss?
Who you think you are? A little selfish bitch?
I should cut the shit,
Before I fuck around and get my ass's kicked,
By a little girl when her ass gets pissed,
And her ass gets ripped,
Hang it out the window like me on an acid trip,
Glass or sip? Forget slittin my wrist,
I'll take the fuckin' razor to my dick.

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(QUICKY)
I come wit RESPECT, no DIS(S) in front of that,
But actin like KOOL Gs in front of RAP... front on that.
Behind the scenes ya none of that,
He say he got heat like Summa had, but gets scared wen the Thunda clap.
Wen it comes to cash his boy say he double that.
Subtract the Duffle bag, add the Ruffle bag, hes the sum of that.

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Still don't give a fuck, I get str8 to the point//
Me I'm Money Motivated, put my face on a coin//
Know to chop a 8-ball, but never laced up my joint//
Plus I been a O.G. since the day I was born//
U never met another bitch got so much swag//
I'm servin dem fiends, ya babymomma coppin grams//
I don't discriminate just put the money in my hands//
Then I'm back to my beatz bitch, back In the lab//
Eastcoast rider, In a downsouth Slab//
Old School Chevy, 87, so bad//

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THIS IS KALLED "IVE MASTERED THE ART"


I've mastered the art...of killing a beat...then stashin the evidence...
its not a slack in skill...but a lack of intelligence...
that keeps cats desolate...the traps they're embedded in...
sheer wackness...the trash is embelished with...
paragraphs of letters sent...there in stands the irrelavence...
peers capture the sediments...in cracks of left sentiments...
where kids bask in precedence...and laugh at the presidents...
that think gas is worth blooded hands of several killed...
but relax we're Americans...greedy assed and desperate...
sure we've had our hesitence...and ask for reverence...
just to mask the fact...we casually act as though we care a bit...
when the anthrax develops in...
our land so delicate...kids grab a flag and hit...
any cat thats Arabic...or just shares their heritage...
tho its sad to bare with it...I long for the day that man can master his ignorance...
and cast it to depths within...

I've mastered the art...of delivering...lines with a meaning...
my most basic thoughts' palms...lie on the ceiling...
but why is it seeming...the only style that's appealing...
just happens to be shared...with 9 other beings...
to minds I'm a genious...even blinds could've seen it...
organized in a sequence...in-fi-night till it weakens...
just try and repeat it...and you'll finally believe in...
the simple fact...that it would be ill advised to read it...
unless u want eyes that are bleeding...a hairline recieding...
your life is depleated...because time will have eaten...
your insides...with the appetite of a demon...
so smile when the beat hits...
or die while you're sleeping...since I will have beaten...
any sign of your breathing...with rhyme that'll ceace it...
purify and delete it...to show that lyrics this divine are the reasons...
we strive to achieve bliss...

I've mastered the art...of capturing hearts...through out the ages...
even though...there are those...who doubt this statement...
tuned out to races...
we as humans...are too bound to face it...fools bound in chains with...
conformity...conservatives...who frown on changes...
only see the common ground...when...you down on pavement...
from loose rounds and sprayed clips...leave 2 down and weightless...
while a slew drown adjacent...to the depth...only a few found complacent...
like desert sand...only a few grounds remain still...
counting 10 seconds of thought...soon while the brains killed...
thanking goodness no weapon was drawn...
never be too proud to say shit...and you'll mount the stage with...
a new sound...too loud...to mute down...amazing...
then when you're crowned the greatest...you can pass the flame...
on to down...who now...sees you as their new found inspiration...

-=HOLLA FRONT=-
http://myspace.com/slimmakabonz

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The call me lil cause im a bit of short
i run this cities cause i got all the hoes
i m gettin money from sellin all this dope
i m gettin fame for rappin all this months

i have a jet that its right next to you
and lots of money which are all girl for you
i ve got an enzo mazda and ferrari
i m ready to make up with you
alone in an alley

What you think?My opinion is that its awful....

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