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letra de dome, pat stay diss - mac insanity

i don’t give a f-ck about fake battle raps, fake gun bars 50k cars, actin all hard, and sayin a buncha sh-t that you wish that you are/i was 15 in the back a wagon, we used take the cuffs off with shoestring whatever, out in philly you cuffed together, blue bus, blacks jews us, no one to trust,/just the must of the mace, i still got a strongarm i can punch you in the face trannys dealers users, all stuck in one place, i’m from the land of xanny’s dope and adderal, where cowards die slow and k!llers eventually fall/sometime you tryn to work all day and some stupid fn fiend is yelling works all day/ ask for change all morning cause they sick n need a bag, all you rappers watch your mouth before i stuff you in a bag/everyone has guns now i guess,everyone has millions wow i’m impressed/i grew up mentally stressed/ the dragon spit fire, i’ll slit your throat and tire got on bedroom room in the middle of the wire/i was shocked the first time i saw chalk on the ground/thinkin they really do that sh-t? and i said it loud/pride k!lls but im proud/ im loud/ im in the f-ckin underground where a p-wn takes the crown/posted up with my handmade shank in the yard/f-ggots thinking they hard, i’m lookin at the gate n could i really stab the guard,/ this was juvie n its nothing like a movie, corwards workin for the guard for a power pro job, stay up late n give that c.o. a bl-w j-b/they tried to have me beat, i’m rutheless motherf-cker left with undefeat/n u coward still can’t see me/nj d.o.c. 285958c/ talkin this talkin that shutup b-tch you talkin rap, talk too much and end up smacked, i’m feelin real thrifty,/do rappers even know what the f-ck is a buck fifty/ its to mark your face your a snitch/ buck fifty, fifty fifty/ everybody f-cks with me/roll dolo, crips n blood want me join strong/ the muslims kept approachin wit a cap n coran/ dont you f-ckin people get it i came in alone,pr-ne, cast the first stone/ima fight my way home,/ an ima use any word i want c-nt to me a stint is a stunt an any real motherf-cker would eat you for lunch, the truth is prisons filled with a bunch of wanna be tough guys, may get in you face, hold up my n-gg- wait, till we to a real small place where n-body can see n i can smack out the taste,/its blackout disgrace/i bee on dorms i been in cells i been on streets i been to h-ll/ i been high i been low/ i been booked in hole by a f-ggot c.o/wanna get loud i love that beef/ but im beat you 2wice if i get a blue sheet. i did so much time in all places, i punched so many f-ckin faces wasted so much time i wish i never wore those laces, cut my knuckles on braces/ line up hands out cops lookin for traces/ officer mo-hika been so long i bet you run that block/still ridin around off the clock lookin for c-ck? filled with rage, thrown into a cage, slavery’s been dead so how i been a slave?it never cease to amaze/ you can go catch aids meet yo grave still can’t see me, debit card, welfare card b-tch odb,cmd, county fn jail everyone on state road/just tune the time out kid till the day you get your clothes, some rap for the streets, others fake like pat stay, pullem in a time machine to back in the day, fn f-ggot soft as hey, he mad right now, child is autistic wish he wasn’t a dad right now, racist f-ggot you think cal punked you, we can pull a dizaster and battle just to jump you, i hate that fake as b-tch darkside snitch on some wannabe sh-t. runnin your lips. i do this for everyone sitting in a cell, i know that life is h-ll and stays with you i can tell, keep the gr-ss cut low cause f-ggots like pat just got go. pat will take a tour of the hood a tour a jail, so he can step his bars up real motherf-ckers know fake f-ckin suckers, youse a sucker motherf-cker and i’ll f-ck you f-ckin mother, happy little dartmouth family sister an a brother.i’ll battle you in eastern, i’ll battle you pacific, i’ll hook your f-cking jaw, just to get specific, so sit back pat relax lick ur f-ckin lips, tomorrow he’ll join the crips to just run his lips,i swear i hate the b-tch, white jock rapper, corey charron grabber, whats your middle name pat “sold out”? oh dont hold out what you gonna do now, against charron he said organiks little b-tch, consider this a diss, a hiss, slash ur fn wrist you dont need to exist, and the entire time you been ganiks fn b-tch, goes home to mom at night parks his leased whip, fingers his cl-t quick before his mother walks in, i can battle you on wax, battle you on paper, i’d battle at your house you little sister i’ll rape her. tape her. put a price on that ho and u best get my paper, so if you see me with that b-tch you know i dont wanna date her, canadian battle rapping hypocrite liar, nothin you said has ever been fire, i wish i could k!ll you twice then bring you back black n autistic esco jeans goin ballistic, im horrific, like bl–dy fn murder, drake took your fn money thats kind of funny a sucka free boss sweeter then honey. sucka d-ck you fn f-g i’ll chuck a right n f-ck ur flag. pitty patty picked a peck of letters, gottem all from hollohan and puttem all together, wrote a battle rap added a bit of look at im pat, with your stupid fn slogans, i wanna kick the f-ckin tv when u battle n im not even jokin roastin, east coastin, i dont need a knife a i dont need a gun, i’ll fn floor you for fun, see i get all that fake -ss rappin but that chokeslam sh-t …dog that really can happen. ……….hope i never see your little b-tch -ss, real motherf-ckers do real sh-t………..fn fake -ss crack fiend. i’ll k!ll u n i’m mean you heard me? haha philly n jersey! im out 5k

- mac insanity

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