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lirik lagu typical cats - qweloquiallisms

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for the h-ll of it
you spit irrelevant
delicate flows
speak child
intelligent, mellow sh-t kills fellowships _ freestyles

smile. punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
perfection stepped in
three guesses who the best is

check it, check it
h-llo, h-llo
yo yo
i am, i ams dumb, dumb
can, can qwel, qwel rock, rock?
well, well um, um
fear, fear kids, kids
cans, cans spray paint _
look out below, its that flow that you were shoutin’ ’bout so loud

crush flows in mudslides
ha ha that ra[?] in punchlines
funny like when the thug sun dies at moonrise
i’m sunshine
echos at graveyards are speakin’ of us[echoed]

seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin’ beneath graffiti buffs
feed the needy
f-cking bleeding down the side of silver snakes
_ in a hollow-safeguard[?]
dollars in graveyards fill your graves

listen through submission and s-d-stic cultures
and demon’s guns surround our suns like copernicus-tic vultures
soldier’s clothing
golden swoling(?)
souls in carc-ss herses
curse your first-person
and search for serpents in our verses

your crew bleeds too profusely
who gave groupies _
standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade cl-ss mate
who’s got cooties
excuse me, emcees
pretending not to envy me
but readily sending he_ of frenzy centipedes

motherf-ckers lack intensity
and can’t rhyme either
i see words, split ’em in twice with reverbs
become a believer

you blow like you’re poprocks with 3 liters
the sh-t’s on.[?]
snap your fat lackin’ tracks in half
mine are big-boned
these styles be free

qwel sees above weak emcees
decibel levels
an infinite _
tesicle jokes

investin’in broke for lines
not as dope as mine
needs work
rehe-rs- your speech slurs
i won like three thirds
censor the census
on my five senses
and unis-x the mutants
’till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans

the worst heard herbal verbalist
my thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch
servin’ kids, track
turnicates,
smashin’ furnishings after cl-ss
with the get in your -ss p-ss, rappin backwards
askin’ for herbs and the last laugh, laugh


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