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Artist: Dom Pachino f/ Bronze Nazareth, Kevlaar 7
Album:  Tera Iz Him 2
Song:   Vitamins
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Bronze Nazareth]
Yeah, quarter to hash, boy midnight mass
Please, leave the money, let's take care of the grass
Administer sinister drag, while my life revoke
It's like watching in slow motion how the dice would roll
Motion picture drip the paper maestro, heist your bones
Righteous leave the vice on violet poems, plus my mic is stone
Never the same, switch it from the previous opening
I flow opium, with spoken chains to cause a voltage
I'm open mind frame, with air force like earth's door
Wool's cloth forth from my aoetas to the floors
Bitch spearing through beautiful massacres, off random of force
Nickel holes big control, real tunnel to the soul
So you feel me, and consider this, I will eat
Ski mask elite hash, catch 'em on Wall Street
My dirty deed niggas, bound like Reynolds ripping your teeth
Stack all pots and dreams, tall as you can lick the streets
Spitting close with you my son, the hotel rhyme schemes
Otherwise, the sapphire barbwire nine please
First man overboard, hyperthermic mind freeze
Lines sharks sneeze, sparks mash off without the mask off
The bro house we cultivate expand, rockets that blast off

[Kevlaar 7]
Post apocalypse coming, I got aces blazing
You facing the king, fuck the fame, stain my realness
Steal stage stainless, aim this at the cortex
Spray the clergy, no mercy, sing the blues, if you choose
Don't stop the burning, cotton field thoughts controlling
The sea hawk genuine, penmenship exquisite
Giving birth of menace, inpregnating the limits
Death to the witnesses, wealth to the limitless
Built this since '88, aiming for crazy cake
Crime jewels is brass head, my niggas stay ratcheted
Waiting for snakes, aiming to snatch my last bread

[Dom Pachino]
High calibur, mic javeler, wise man collabor
The rest is unpararrel, coudln't match up my stature
Move too fast so catch up, like a paint job get touched up
Grip tight and crushed up, by my Soldiers of Darkness
I light up the hood, every time that I spark this
I get the NARc's pissed, I'm so dope
One sniff of this Terrorist track, they can't cope
I tell 'em, calm down, little nigga, and have a smoke
Take a listen to my material, that's no joke
No it's a apparent, that I'm the best at it
Every time I drop a joint, they get ecstatic
Fuck most consistant, I'm automatic
This time I'mma make 'em eat it, like pre-natul vitamins for they wiz
When they seeded, I had too much steam in my pipe, I had to bleed it
They crying hungry, wanted food, I make 'em eat it, I make 'em it
My dirty doctrines, higher protein, but causing some pain
Going down, ya'll need some codeine, the flow's mean
And rigid, cold and frigid, represent the seven digit
Ya'll niggas coming up short just like a midget
I stand tall, like that nigga in 300
Give you three fifty for fucking with me, if you want it