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Artist: 7L & Esoteric f/ Rise
Album:  DC2: Bars of Death
Song:   Grace of Gods
Typed by:

Hey hey what we gon' do is we gon' get the DJ
to give us a few jigga jiggas
So we can get this shit on the road
and get it started, know what I'm sayin?

[Rise + (Esoteric)]
Yo, rise, 7L, Esoteric, Demigods (1-2), Axis
(I got this) What you want?

[Verse 1: Esoteric]
You pack chrome, I doubt it
I rip out your frame and make no bones about it
ES, shout it, my style slams dark
My rhymes start to combine like dry humps and hand jobs
You need a flame that's a blowout jack
You get MJ on broadway and couldn't stage a come back
I rap spicy like ???
While the twelfth collect dust like pcp fiends
I see through teens like X-ray machines
A smart dad, pick the kid's evil schemes
(You know all these motherfuckers)
My man will disgrace y'all
When y'all threaten average in a fantasy baseball
Who's gonna sign me?
Underground rapper, got the game down pat like you in O'Reilly
Ready to die like an airline jacker
Crush your skull, give you a hairline fracture
I got hotties on the back burna
that won't go away like bodies on a flag burner
(Hear you rhyme?) I'd rather people mime
Your feeble mind got less lines than equal signs

"no doubt you don't know what it's about"
"I don't mean to boast, but damn if I don't brag"
"Let's get it on"
"I'm not a biter, I'm a writer for myself and others"
"no doubt, you don't know what it's about"
"I don't mean to boast, but damn if I don't brag"
"Every line that I recite, I consider it art"
"Any things you do, I can tear it apart"

[Verse 2: Rise]
Ready before the sound checks, before the 'You next on's'
A crew that's strong, mics that we use get bronze
Is the rapper right or the critic, the fan, artist, the business, the clan
That sorta shit makes you want opinions, we give it, dig it
If you get too deep for real when you rock
and the attention levels drop when people look at they watch
Weighing against money, on a balance scale, time flies
Your mind's controlled by presidents that aren't even alive
Old dogs learn new tricks, they could spit in my class
I teach an old Pit to flip and saw a rapper in half
The last rapper stop beefin' and they searched for the man
Now they beefin' just to see who's our number one fan
Compressed to the glance, people peep my world and enter
The he's and she's of every species in placenta
Heat rises, warm up your crib, playing in cold weather
Your baby stopped cryin' and your plants grow better