My Overflow
• Written by dAMmitDAn
dAMmitDAn's Notes
The beat drops at about 19.5 seconds.
The lyrics begin there.
From there is your individual destiny. Follow your heart true. Or something.
If ever my flow borders over, purposely I overflow/
I'm major stoned; yet sorta sober, circuitry on overload/
No stranger to the danger zone; all certainties gone overboard/
Double A's I've changed; my channel changer; purposefully to overthrow//
The goddamn status quo, and that damn establishment/
This fuckin' puppet show, up inside yer bassinet/
The average joe. Holy fuck, we might need new management/
Da fuck you know about that tragic, accidental banishment?//
Detrimental mental states; An active passion to eliminate/
Sentimental moments, hate; Attack actions, activate/
Transcendental visionary; My element, incendiary/
Maximize the cemeteries; Laxatives preliminary//
Sacrifice the missionaries; Artifice exemplary/
Appetite for dictionaries; Pacify the dignitaries/
Analyze my literary, paradise of legendary/
Ranks of mental military; fantasized obituaries//
Lock down, down to solitary; Waste no time on commentary/
Impact with which comets carry; Get hit once then secondary/
In-fact spit-that dominating, crash-rap; crash involuntary/
Spit life; my mic's ovulating; hotter than a dromedary//
Got pills like apothecaries; Herb prefered, burn olitories/
Murder fer yer monetary, fundage what is, voluntary/
Manslaughter as an honorary homicide; exonerating/
Words absurd; derogatory, works of art are arbitrary//
I'm Quick to drop a fella,
wit' dis wicked A Cappella.
Witness sickness when I spit this.
Rippin' victims, hot as hella.
The beat ran out of beeps and boops.
I guess that means we need these troops.
Ballin' always; no need for hoops.
I'm the shit, believe me dupe.
These, yes these; the truest WHOOP!
Sure, my turds. Them ruthless poops.
Please place my Id, proceeding Stoop.
Shoop. Shoop badoop. Shoop badoop badoop badoop.
(Or whatever they say in that song that is so old that I must also be so old..)
(For my lyrical litter box)
(Fer real, my miracle spitter cocks,)
(Itself back and It fells my foes)
(Satirical thoughts I walks and talks.)
Bash yall with fast talk; get assaulted; at fault.
Truly ruthless poops,
retardedly harder to scoop,
than straight up solid asphalt.
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About the Artist
dAMmitDAn
Member since February 5 2015