J-Live – Braggin’ Writes

BragginWrites

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 he Live one arrives with. The natural ability to run through your crew. From 2-1-4 to 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 trash on how you’re wettin MC’s with mad blood stains but I’ll bet you can’t stand the rain. I look upon 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, but it evaporated.

I displays my credentials over instrumentals. And my potential, increases at a rate that’s exponential. It’s detremental questionin my thesis. The penetration’s exact, like amniocentesis. I rip your rhyme 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 shakin 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 Special Ed if you think you Got It Made. 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

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 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 messin 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 serpent as I head to class
You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style’s no joke. but you best belive I gets the last laugh

Quote by J-Live from Braggin Writes