Day 323 (Free Rhyme: Mannequin)


Mode: Lyriquement





Is it the man in the suit
or the suit on the man?
the beat or the emcee
the mic in my hand?
I compete with an emcee
or fight for his stan?
fight to gain sight
make it right, understand?

Verse 1:

Emcee or the deejay both Jamaican relay
team be dancing with a stroll light beams
that you make you look slick like a Timberlake scene
could it be the flashing lights that make the dance moves clean?
moon walker, alcohol smooth talker
without the liquor in your system, could you talk her
into giving you her number
would you win?
False courage is the spirit in the gin
Is it the merchandise they say its packagin’?
A wolf in sheep’s clothes she loathes for marketing
I cant compromise the music, no bargainin’
I’m all in aces of spades on my cardigan
the mic, the stage, the lights, the platform
what’s the best part, when you watch eNVy perform
So I ask…


Verse 2:

Uh uh uh how can it be?
they screaming like the instrumental for Grammy family
no consequence or influence from the west
I listen to my heartbeat so I model on the best
I confess about winning my type game obsessed
the object is to beat up the beat in a contest
emcees fleeing the scene like its bomb threat
a Sadaam jet, napon lyrics are harm sent
punchlines steady murder your body is blessed
so if the beat stop then its in cardiac arrest
Attack of the heart, I play my part
spit the art exhibited in frames and flamed darts
prohibited to biters and lyrical flow sharks
blow parts from morning to dark we stay sharp
I go go like gadget and go-karts
I’m a franchise player like jordan and walmart


Verse 3:

D-D-D-Dropping on your block like tetris
Move crack music hand to hand ambidextrous
i’m reckless leave your spot shine speckless son
punchlines for your soul perplexes
eat emcees first thing like an English breakfast
underground hip hop no strippers no lexxes
no flex for rolex cut the block like fences
F-F-F-focus like I spit through lenses
a man with a gun and I battle you defenceless
blind, deaf and dumb your flow is knocked senseless
real talk, no pretences
after this we do a census: where your mans is?
tap your heels like you’re trying to get to Kansas
shoot ’em city like they pose for cameras
I keep it really gritty like a row of handlers
I do it for the heads, spit lead for the bangers.//

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