CHORUS:
blank paper makes me want to write,
silent moments, make me want to rhyme
(murs)
Now give me any instrumental combined with a pencil, and a blank sheet I guarantee that I create the beat,
for them fools out there thinking that the underground don't got no heat,
I'll come with some shit to run your punk ass up off the street,
thinking you an MC, more like maricon coward get devoured over tracks, get all up in your ass with these 12 inches of wax,
relax no need to be tense, as I dangle your career from a cliff can you feel the suspense?
and the next episode is the one where you fall from the top of the rap game,
hit rock bottom then your head explodes upon impact, you should listen to Murs first then rap,
and if you feel you can come as tight then recite, if not the next best reply is silence,
typical American youth addicted to violence, especially if its verbal I'll be quick to make shit pop like a hot kernel nocturnal traveler,
supreme freestyle battler, the written is like my secondary
wreckin' adversaries in a legendary fashion, nigg*s all up in the cypher holding on to punchlines like rations,
got me laughin' at these dumb rhymers, while I'm spittin' paragraphs to overwhelm their one-liners,
tryin' to come at me with combat with some shit you wrote a few weeks back,
soundin' like you need me to proofread you raps, you could fuck around and end your whole career like that,
just some shit to think about the next time you get up the nerve,
before you have to walk around forever known as the nigg* murs served...
(chorus)
(shing02)
My strategy is deeper than the deepest blue ever known in history
forget playin' chess your mental tactics can't even dream to conquer tic tac toe
your one-dimensional flow stuck in a 3x3 matrix, I play tricks mentally,
go down your root canal dentally and prove that your flossing is eventually coming obsolete in the 21st century,
Shingo2 rippin' the mic like it was meant to be
fatally, attracting opponents cause I'm hacking alien components with my operating system,
diss'ed them intellectuals with my mere existence, I'm sending out the virus no use for resistance,
It's just the rap that I reveal, trap you like veal, throw pubic fools into miniscule cubicles
elacerate your head right down to the cuticle, rearrange you like rubic cubes and then I shoot to kill,
lyrically cause rap does not need anymore violence, In all humbleness E22 move in silence,
with or without a license Shingo ginzu slicin', I jump over the high fence of reality and glide since,
I got infinite artillery, you try to run shit behind my back like Hillary, your input is auxiliary,
plus your grounded, not under-grounded so take your fake-ass style and put it back where you found it!
flows go beyond synonyms pseudonyms and acronyms,
my lyrical game makes the lame have acrobatic limbs, like Taekwondo,
John Doe can stay at the condo, in silent moments staring at the blank paper!
(chorus)
(shing02)
yeah it's fresh mc's are finally starting to be rhyming, not 2x-ing between mc and celebrity,
spending time and energy trying to look pretty, plus they can't even take one line of criti-cism,
add the word race now you got racism, eyes disecting light and skin colors like a prism,
finally escape this world full of mental prison, the word is with a capital h, He Is Risen,
(murs freestyle)
(shing02)
If it ain't broke, don't try to remix it, And if your lyrics are wack, then we'll give you a fix-it