Lyrics On the Mic - Breez Evahflowin

Now we came with good rhymes and grooves that don't quit
When you can't, if you can't, handle it
Every word that we spit is type scandalous
Strong holdin's on the mic, now do it
(Now do it, do it, do it, do it)
And, shanana
And,
(Breez Evahflowin!)
And, shanana

They talkin jive like the label
My unstable elements smack relevence to fabels
Able bodied cross breed of elephant and cable
Unforgetable shows - I'm fed up with those
Who should've been home instead of recitin' them triflin' flows
The hype and the ho's
I'm wipin' ya ass with my toes
What type of the flows you got that make you hot
If that's pop
Breez had better be a bastard
A master to perfection
Spittin' acid in ya section like alien ressurection
Reflectin' rhymes eternal like Kweli or a mirror
Battle - anytime, anyplace, any era
Where a mic is, strike with vocal blows to overload ya frontal lobe
You front you fold styles olde-r than english
In this, I got more back than dorsal fins
I force a win over decision
Rock cuts with surgical precision
Allergic to the competition
So when you come I come at-you!
Bless me but dont ask me who the best be

Course Mama made me, and you get burnt down like Branch Davidians
Poison's comittee is gettin' claps like Chlamydia
Stage shows, we amaze bros, who always say "Those
Young cats don't do jack," but everybody say "HO!"
We pray, though, Stronghold rap flows the hottest
Stronghold, what, catchin' an L!?!, we Globetrotters!
My joints, projected, your chick's claimin' baby father
I look like Dada? Nada, volcanic flow with lava
Uninteresting jockin', cockblock these riders
We run the picture, she talked it for years, aint got jack from their papa
A poet like that? Who needs them plaques
Saving these tracks behind my back, and this pen be on your track
I'm pro black, got no cash you should know that
Oh, yeah, I was talkin' to The LOX, they said want their dough back
Go back, get the bozack
Don't know much, just like Fudge, they record us then report us
No tour bus, I aint slow-bo, photo, February 9, step on out the photo
I blow those
Out of proportion so I can get chicks to twist like contortion
"Can I borrow some dough?" face gets distortion
Poison Rhymer's an author, I feel like Dr. Seuss
With a Bubblegoose, and a little more juice

Because of my freestyle, I have no time practice
I'm hangin' emcees upside down and backwards
Thought the fact is, I'm on point, like a cactus
Fuck emcees, I eat planets, like Galactus
I meditate, battle galaxies, verbalate

This is all I could catch, for the most part, I have to go, but I wanna send
This to you instead of just erasing. If you could, please correct any
Mistakes and add the rest if you can, Breez doesn't have any of his lyrics
On here yet, and as a strong underground head and Blaze battle champion, I
Think he deserves it. Thanx.
ON