Essays on Esoterrorism

7L and Esoteric

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    Psionically bionically I dominate demonically
    Check this, my reckless style will catch wreck ironically
    Sonically I'll invade, crush your cavalcade
    Parade through your barricade I made the accolade
    Now men get mad, they grab a pen and pad and end up sad
    Cuz my prestige has 'em under siege like Leningrad
    When in Damascus, yo I cause disasters
    Choking pagans in Copenhagen my vocals plaguing
    Ancient masters, well dressed on the Elfquest
    I severed your test-press and never felt stress
    I melt flesh, which helps death reclaim the lame
    I hang frames like a key chain, similar to ethane
    Colorless, odorless, vocalists notice this
    Proteus, morphing, dwarfing, aborting your recording
    I'm not the one to bet against
    Even with your best defense you'll get destroyed like Evidence

    Chorus: (Scratched by 7L)
    [It's a lyrical lesson to emcee fakes]
    [To sucka emcee's I'm just plain terror]
    [It's a lyrical lesson to emcee fakes]
    [Genuine genius, of rap warfare]

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    My lyrics snap necks in the strangest fashion
    Still unparalleled by a trained assassin

    I maim and chasten assorted assailants
    Barbarian, alien under surveillance
    My ailments, unseen, few and far between
    Our regime's rhymes climb to bar sixteen of the third verse
    None heard worse than the gruesome depiction
    Of the Esoteric pain infliction by diction
    I don't weight lift, I shape-shift
    Wiping the smirks off these jerks in tight shirts
    Steady slamming 'em, to the mat with a snap suplex
    Your crew gets, ripped out the frame like goosenecks
    on a Harrow, yes the God Awful is a Pharaoh
    Riding dromedaries through monasteries and bombing every
    Sucker that your hand me, your looking like a pansy
    I'm a vigilante, that's fancy like Dandies
    When I showboat, so dope Columbians are pumping me
    So dope that when I fly my man has to smuggle me
    I've been to Europe three times in my life
    Two times out of three, I was paid to rock mics
    You don't want none, Shamus posts high like bail bondsmen
    Or Larry Johnson, going low on Stacy Augmon in the paint
    Most cats due to the contact with lyricism
    Essays on Esoterrorism

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