Tonedeff – Verse 1A I snap wack rappers in half like they was a stack of crackers/ Till the animals they’re crafted after, be laughing at ya/ Blasting ya bastards, cause it’s for certain/ Your skills are a figment of your imagination like Tyler Durden. Logic – Verse 1B Whatever happened to qualified lines written down with mental quality/ I renamed your style pet-peeve because your shit just fuckin bothers me/ Don’t bother coming back, with your weak thoughts, I’m outta body/ I ripped em outta your skull with my one-handed lobotomy. Tonedeff – Verse 1C Here’s an affirmation, I’m leaving your ass thrashed with lacerations/ Voraciously masticating, you waste half of your dates while masturbating/ Placing your severed in front of an assassination station/ So that day to day you’ll Face decapitation. Logic – Verse 1D You can’t stop, top me, or even rock me/ I don’t believe in fuckin’ crews, I even beat the guy who brought me/ You stop me? Now that’s some shit that fucking shocks me/ Send your girl to ride my dick, cause that’ll be the only way you’ll top me, You got me?
Logic – Verse 2A My dick’s bigger than Mandingo, I swing with a fandango/ Banged a one-legged retarded bitch in a Durango, just to catch a different angle/ Angles angel different in competition, exposing your styling all bare/ Cause even your shittiest flows has got your rhymes running scared/ Sometimes I can’t bear to witness the multitude of mediocrity/ Running repetitive schemes making hip-hop a total mockery/ But awkwardly, I welcome the weak when they’re all coming/ Cause in competition, I house more niggas than if my name was Mr. Drummond. Tonedeff Verse 2B Can I take you out? Probably. Make you take wrong turns like when Whitney decided to marry Bobby/ You’ll get hooked up, then get fucked early like girls that fornicate/ I come off like loose promotional stickers on porno tapes/ The head to coronate/ With flows so organic that plants are green with envy, just how the hell you think they chlorinate/ No chemicals needed to formulate/ Challenging calendars to tic-tac-toe’s the only way that you can score a date.
Logic – Verse 3A I hear you crying with pleading, but your times up like a lease/ What? Jealous cause I move crowds like Riot Police? Bitch, stay at ease, and back off my mic please/ Cause you seem to be giving my beat some kind of fucking disease/ You trying to step to me? Like you’re the main feature? Like bad audio email, I’ll ignore ya and delete ya/ Then I’ll beat ya, I mean, like, Just BEAT ya and defeat ya/ In front of your friends and family watching helpless from the bleachers/ Yea, I spoke to all your teachers, went over your notes in your pad/ And The part where you were speechless…best rap that you had/ I wanted to respond, I just didn’t hear what you said/ Rhymes with expiration dates on em, I mean, your shit is so dead/ That in the middle of a battle, in your rhyme deliberation/ You’re gonna need that kid from 6th Sense for translation/ Now, follow these directions, go to your rhyme at the top/ Switch to delete, cause you’re a bitch. Tonedeff Verse 3B To grasp fame you clutch performers/ You gotta take scissors to almanacs of your street to cut corners/ Weak MCs on my lunch order/ In the winter you bitches lips are my certified nut-warmers/ The oral emancipator, Formative rants that paved the way For an advance decay of exorbitant wack pervaders/ Through attacks for haters, Flows are the active agents/ Blindfolded fast breaks just to show you horrible stats later/ There’s no surprise here/ I’m Tonedeff but with fully functional fingers, tongue, and nose, eyes… ears/ Like college kids buy beer, it’s a given/ That nobody else can flip it when Logic & Tone is rippin/ Assaulting your bitch to hit the shit with ease/ I’m rocking it HART, never skipping a beat—-even when I sneeze/ With no FEAR of amateurs/ I’m prepping the pop world for combat like giving Britney Spears in Africa.
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