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letra de this morning (accapella) - mr. len

[verse 1: breeze brewin]
a pain in the neck having to grab when attaining your check
but gaining respect another matter. my brother, gather
your heavy artillery, raw flow, thought guts
get ready, god. it’ll be war. no shortcuts
me, i’ll be the workaholic unless the verb perturb
the herb. i’m stressed, berserk, i’m all sick
‘til every bit of my person is dripping h-ll-bent
when every bit of exertion is given, well-spent
some of y’all bring it ‘bout as strong as shaq
with the acting. my steel for real
mic or otherwise, strike y’all brothers, size xl
shrinking ‘em like rick moranis. bring your baddest
i’ll prove it literal, i’ll prove it’s pitiful
my movement critical. the blood of this i transfuse
to mad crews, from bad news to utter bliss
if you’re checking to beyond, aiming for deeper otherness
disrespecting the peons, aiming to keep y’all brothers p-ssed

[verse 2: queen herawin]
see the scenario from aerial planes
i’ll reign/rain terrains in modules of monsoon
my mental lyrical style be seed to mongrel
physical being’s a vehicle. fiends gleam
my freestyle. meanwhile, my degrees wild
exceeding normal range, caused to gauge writtens
sitting in danger, i’ll move, spitting seeds
from numerous breeds of verses, vintage
that existed in vineyards. past tense
intense, immense like internet, syndicate juggaknots
knock lyrics that stop traffic and your whip
when your audio cl-t is broke, your tape deck chokes
causing vehicular backs at intersects. rendez
flip spine, their style. selective sonnets
caribbean isle goddess, possess a process
that cause stress to your harvest
providing the antidote for your prowess

- mr len

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