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Artist: (Dungeon Masta f/) The Rodentz, Graveyard Shifter
Album:  Morbid Society * Hell Has a Face
Song:   Six Feet Under
Typed by: Cno Evil

[sample from "The Score"]
I got a minor development, we lost a buyer
	Lost? What do you mean, lost?
Well, she's in a brass casket
Six feet underground, never to be heard from again

[Intro: Graveyard Shifter]
Graveyard, The Rodentz, yeah
Representing GNC, check it out
Yo, spit it, yo

[Graveyard Shifter]
When I spit this sound, out of this world like space aliens
The way I, alter this track, some place claiming them
Great plates in tracks, like gigolos from bits
Styles unique, my pages, spin a door, would hit
They try to compete, they'll all sing along while I spit
That's the difference between a bitch and a born MC
I'd never sit and watch you dudes try to, out-do me
My style's complete, ten spirits like kung fu movies
The Bruce kid, welcome to the fucking realm of rap
Where MC's is so dark, exhibit facts of crack
And count the facts, leak it, while I made the crib
And send the fags retreat, want some place to sit
Like, me did with thanks but some made snakes out the stakes
A miracle, I stomp God, and state of repent
Now all my tracks are played at the gates, before you get picked
To enter the place called Heaven, or fall in the pit
All in your girl, I've never lived, I want to guess
Grow on you, my rap's sick, yo, I'm barred from rap
Grave the Pharaoh, everybody kneels on elbows
That's no respect, enough to please my, mad flows
You wack ho, claming that you, do this for love
I leave the game, gat killed us when you fuel the bugs
Out of love, you drop the spoons, man, your shit is transparent
You trick ain't daring enough, more burdens than safe sex

[Cno Evil]
Aiyo, Graveyard, pass me that microphone, homey
Brilliant but drastic, real enthusiastic
The writer/director Cno Evil, my work is classic
I'm sarcastic, with my tongue gymnastics
My heat will make you soft like, thermoplastics
I'm critically acclaimed, raw power, breathtaking
Ferocity, check out my velocity
I don't know, but someone tried to slow up my flow
I'm looking to strike gold, with chateus in plateaus
I'm real bold, cuz I have dreams that's long
Adventure novels, like Ian Fleming's James Bond
I'm beyond, I correspond songs in Hong Kong
I chop up beats, like chopped up meat, egg foo yong
I'm gone, the perfect stranger, money arranger
My vision is all clear, throughout this present danger
Concealed shields has been revealed, me and Mouse
Rolllin' together like Vincent Vega / Jules Winnfield
The wind feels, real cold against my face
I drop the coup de grace, with only one breathing space
Eraser, inciting victims like ambulance chasers
I trail in "ports" and "lands", like the Blazers
Witness the first mic to be murdered on the spot
My beats tied the knotts, my words aimed and shot
It dropped on the ground, made a feedback sound
It tried to rebound, but Mouse had turned around
Then, from out his mouth, came flying the last slug
That forced it to get hit, fall back and unplug
We feast on human blood like bed bugs
My lyrics addicted to you, quicker effects than drugs

I appear from the shadows, then I hit ya
Swiftly, zero percent chance, I miss ya
No trace of evidence, not even a figure
A Copperfield act, if you can get the picture
I speak this, so it's, easily depicted
I cut out resignators, so I'm less restricted
Free flowing, keep going, like water rolling off the brim
Sit back, relax, and just listen to the hymn

[sample from "The Score"]
I'mma say something to you
You're smart, you're talented, and you know a few things
But talent means nothing in this game if you don't make the right choices
There's plenty of talented people out there who never see the light of day anymore
Last thing, it takes discipline
Cuz this whole game's one big long shot
And if you don't have the discipline to stay away from the flyers
Or from the gambles, or whatever else you wanna call this stupid move
Then my friend, I'm afraid to say, one day, you will go down
It's inevitable