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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet... The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to With a Pound Bro
Severity is 4
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Lyric Body	Bass thick as the chunky milk your moms drinks Toss a lyric at my boys to see what they think Gots to keep on rolling with a stream of consciousness because Consistent flows of thought are what I taught for efficientness And though opinions are important and I take my criticism If it's unsubstantiated the middle finger's what i give 'em Taste a sliver of the lyrics I developed in my womb A lyrical fetus to be delivered to the public soon Dub it fool, dub it fool, get my shit known 'Cause I'm livin' in a glass house and I want to cast a stone Maybe Sharon will guide me with her natural instinct Prefer the basic 'cause the complicated gets extinct The foundation's always there and to show that I care About the future of the music I'll use it to repair The current condition of all the wack ass shows And I'll end each one with a pound, bro Left to the right with a pound... bro, so Gimmie a pound, bro, gimmie a pound bro Left to the right with a pound... bro, so Gimmie a pound, bro How'd it happen I was rapping and my brain exploded Thought I was freestyling and I was! I never wrote it! If I wanna kick the lyrics off the top no one's gonna' stop me Rock the show with a pound bro, it sounds so Simple but the so-called lyricists Couldn't freestyle if it came out they piss Give me a topic and I'll rock it in an instant Whether I sound near (or whether I sound distant) Shouts go out to motherfucking M-W-C And all the fools on the planet who supported me I got too many lyrics, don't drown, yo' End this bullshit this bullshit with a what, what?! Check the crazy flow, from the crazy bro Step to the stage and get beat by the lazy ho Self-centered rhymes I'm the king of braggadocio Grab the microphone and put the shit into motion Always on my toes checkin' my back for backstabbers But I'm strapped with a mic to smash a wack rapper The hands clap I slap a fool across the face Spray his ass with mace, eat him up and say my grace The rhymes are woven like a tapestry in fact it's me With the needle in my hand sewing and attacking the Style biters rhyme reciters with the same sound As I did last year when my peers put me down But now they getting rave reviews and I still refuse To believe it I achieved it last year and they makes me snooze '95 is the year and I'm coming with a new sound so Hurrikane, my motherfucker, gimmie a pound, bro Left to the right with a pound... bro, so Gimmie a pound, bro, gimmie a pound bro Left to the right with a pound... bro, so Gimmie a pound, bro
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