Can You Relate

Vakill

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    Uh, there go another one y'all; elcome to the new Mole-linneum
    Chicago's sickest

    [Verse 1]
    Chicago, flow and maneuver, shittin this mundges
    Splittin the blungeon, while y'all gettin fucked out of your publishing
    And splittin your budget, I'm from
    Where cats cook cocaine with propane set to a low flame
    Move work premeditated before the dope came
    No name, spit the whole brain, and hit the ass with no lue and no game
    Homie domain to where the most sickness flow rain
    While y'all niggaz claim yo fo-fo aim
    We don't just outline with the chalk here, we shade in the whole frame
    Ready, on your marks, plan to be fuck with me
    you better iron out the details and be heavy on your starch
    From day one, I've been clearly regarded
    As being the most lyrically severely retarted
    But then am I dearly departed
    I found them a lesson touch tracks
    Niggaz know, I got against the gran like wipin my ass from butt crack to nut sack
    When y'all said fuck the world, I had to commit acts of porn
    Hittin from the back with my dick stuck in a crack a dawn
    Since pediatrics I spit pitty graphics
    Shit on any rapper you give a shout to and sent your rap with a city jacket
    Top seeded in the midwestern conference, huh
    Spittin songs around you like a dyke turned around at a bitches breast circumference
    Blow me and swallow every man that was fortified
    Fall off, you can hang that up quicker than Jordan did forty-five
    I'm too mentally disturbed to spite
    I'm kickin motherfuckers under the muffler
    You won't even make it to the car tonight

    [Chorus: x2]
    I rap where the corners is cold blooded *true*
    Drug traffic is so flooded *true*
    Your life's work is low budget
    And the sickest MC's flow rugged
    You can't relate? So fuck it

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    [Verse 2]
    In this world designed of linen and ice driven
    I accurately flip advise given and earn her
    Nice livin in turn, I'm too nice for your own good
    Would be nice if you had a fanbase of one single motherfucker from your own hood
    Pity's no more, no more Mr. Nice Guy
    Never matter who the nicest, I'm nice and you ain't shit but a nice try
    And that's just being nice about it
    You need to have a nice one to say face
    like a presidential Roley with the ice up out it
    Careful who you fuckin and foolin with, 'fore I spit spitefully detruded
    I got a nice way of showin shit, I'm not nice, nut nice stick around in your drawers
    Thought of a mic feedback and get a nice round of applause
    Spit twice the flem, drop christ and gems for god teller
    DOn't hate, say thank you son, that was awfully nice of him
    I shine to precisely sung, spit off the violence
    And spill scripts that rare, the black ball point, nicely done
    Why you worry about makin nice impressions
    YOu should, I got all of you suspect ass niggaz so called nice in question
    Whether you got a nice ass or a thug grill with the ice glowin ya
    To put it nicely, fuck you and nice knowin ya

    [Chorus]

    [Verse 3]
    I rest my crown where straight dogs eat remains and link up brains
    Askin who'd start slayin at pick up games with triggers under hiccups aim
    A world where ansatomy rules, and we drop gems bout cockin back hammers
    And aim it at the family jewel
    So I love the hatred looks, and cook county man state to to crooks
    And bodies catchier than fuckin Naughty By Nature hooks
    And nigga sold his soul to any price, fuck with the penny nice
    Plenty nights I shot many dice with the Henny christ
    But Vakill, ain't he nice? I spit virus none of you cats fathom
    like spreading AIDS through turntable needles and scratch paddles
    Flows that seperated and detach atoms
    Crackin jokes at motherfuckers while they on their death bed like Patch Adams
    Is it the line between those thar rip the force flag
    Play in the middle like a thug nigga dressin in course drag
    I'm rakin dicks up like divorced fags
    The only place y'all gettin five mics is in your ass
    Fuck the Source mag

    [Chorus]

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