Manifest
The first miss is that you listen, the second’s in suspicion/
The third is rhyme addiction, whenever I be spittin/
I’m flipping better flows. I think in decibels/
This is the desert and you’re stupid wearing leather clothes/
Don’t get it twisted bitch, I’m good at evil shit/
Walk up in a church and make a preacher scream out ‘Holy Shit!’/
This niggas triple-six, but the reverse of it/
Slaughter tracks sorta like the murders commited by Berkowitz/
Devoted vocalist, overflowing explosive poet riffs/
Don’t play or beef with me, lyrics come to me easily/
Sporadically transmitting freestyles, telekinetically/
I burn heat with 3rd Degree emergencies, Urge Mcs with Urgency/
Wage a whimsical war of written words with me/
Prefer to eat the weak verbally/
Speech is refered to as unique verbal surgery.

LouCipher
It’s LouCipher, cast out of heaven for throwing power trips/
You need a graphing calculator to count the amount of clowns I rip/
Cause once the instrumental drops, it’s obvious the heads’ll bop/
And your mind will get molested like an unsuspecting alterboy with a dirty priest in the confession box/
Cause any amount of bars with no hook will leave your flow shook/
You couldn’t come across a dope rhyme if you jerked off on my notebook/
This Fallen Angel, stronghold affiliate/
Will make even the hardest rapping thug look like a silly bitch/
Always killin it/
And you must’ve lost your sense of touch if you ain’t feeling it/
A Strongholder of Mics the second I grab it/
I’ll stab your ideas till your thoughts are laid out in a casket/
You;ve just been decapitated, put the fucking head in a basket/
Don’t incite my wrath/
Your writtens are the shit, cause I used em to wipe my ass.

PackFM
Yo, It’s PackFM and strongheezy, roll like dice that’s in monopoly/
Game like Parker Brothers, niggas ain’t coming as properly/
You ain’t on to that? Then, you gots to be… Fuck your thoughts of battling me/
Forget about it, bout it, there’s no limit to my masterpiece/
This nonsense has to cease, cause Pack’s a beast on the loose/
Whippin kids like child abuse, once I put my style to use/
Steppin’ to me with an excuse is useless, cause I’m too slick/
Styles are ruthless, leave you with no use for toothpics/
My title’s undisputed, but right now, I’m at my peak/
Every bar that I freak opens doors like Dominique/
The rhymes you kick are kinda weak, Definition of obsolete/
You never felt this kinda heat, find my style hard to freak/
Next time you feature me, you’d better put this shit first/
Cause cats will skip through the whole CD just to hear my verse.

Tonedeff
I’m cursing any available rhyme-merchant/
So, try purchasing 9 verses of my verbal assertions, turning your words worthless/
Tonedeff with Stronghold? That’s like, Damn! No words to describe this/
Even Bob Barker knows that it’s priceless/
Time to ignite this, I claim know things/
And your Flightless, like an being Ostrich on a plane with no wings/
Cause we be the bilingual flow kings/
They won’t allow me in battles anymore cause the clubs I hit are non smoking/
I be thought-provoking, spit at pop-filters until they soaking/
Leave wack emcees HOPPING mad like sapos screaming COQUI/
I blow the fucking house down in one PUFF/
Regardless of how I sever hearts, it’s One Love/
Concealing my skills is a Tough Bluff/
Like playing the poker with a straight face, with aces being the only cards that come up/
Your whole crew is dumb-fucks they trying to front with they guns up/
It’s all peace, but in prom night fashion they get done up/
I play for 1-Ups, but don’t march to the drum of fate/
If I got one life to live, then I rob cats for the other eight/
And count it down, 1-2-3-4-5, The illest underground hip-hop, we bring it to you live/
For 2000 Milleni-I, it’s like that/
If this shit is off the chain, fuck it y’all, we stole the bike-rack.

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