gladbag
09-13-2006, 02:43 PM
Diss To Laydee Prime
Look LAYDEE PRIME you write crazy rhymes you lazy
And blind my stuff all proper call the doctor junk’s hazy
Even if you wrote a note you couldn’t quote dope rhymes
On paper, a slop clown can’t jot down nouns on broke lines
By your tone of voice you made a wrong choice to battle
Me, my pride talk and like sidewalks abuts with roads and straddle
Earth while you just a backstreet with a whack beat no wisdom
In your rhythm should try affection no directions in your system
Of rap, you’ll need a thermometer or barometer to measure this
Treasure which pleasure your brain I keep a ledger with a list
Of names, your style is sedated you haven’t calibrated your flow
Your scale fail to bale you out, less than a pound of flavor go
On in your lightweight rhymes don’t type great lines behavior low
I’m amused briefly but your lyrics are used chiefly to feed the pigs
So they not hot they just slop even a farmer will say that, you dig?
I’ll put a hurricane in your terrain that’ll twirl your brains like Katrina
Seas are blown as debris is thrown best run to escape this arena
This stuff popular like an Oprah Winfrey Medallion and ill like
An infantry battalion it’ll take a century of stallions to build this type
Horse stable my voice able to rock microphones and shock domes
Like your with the electricity of publicity your fame not known
In the hood, look I’m grade A milk while you parade in silk around home
Look LAYDEE PRIME you write crazy rhymes you lazy
And blind my stuff all proper call the doctor junk’s hazy
Even if you wrote a note you couldn’t quote dope rhymes
On paper, a slop clown can’t jot down nouns on broke lines
By your tone of voice you made a wrong choice to battle
Me, my pride talk and like sidewalks abuts with roads and straddle
Earth while you just a backstreet with a whack beat no wisdom
In your rhythm should try affection no directions in your system
Of rap, you’ll need a thermometer or barometer to measure this
Treasure which pleasure your brain I keep a ledger with a list
Of names, your style is sedated you haven’t calibrated your flow
Your scale fail to bale you out, less than a pound of flavor go
On in your lightweight rhymes don’t type great lines behavior low
I’m amused briefly but your lyrics are used chiefly to feed the pigs
So they not hot they just slop even a farmer will say that, you dig?
I’ll put a hurricane in your terrain that’ll twirl your brains like Katrina
Seas are blown as debris is thrown best run to escape this arena
This stuff popular like an Oprah Winfrey Medallion and ill like
An infantry battalion it’ll take a century of stallions to build this type
Horse stable my voice able to rock microphones and shock domes
Like your with the electricity of publicity your fame not known
In the hood, look I’m grade A milk while you parade in silk around home