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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2008 1:26 pm
by Cee4
bitch ya stressed, my rhymes split ya chest, i spit the best, find ya mama n rip the dress, slit the breast and leave the clit a mess, the answers yes! im sick ta death

Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2008 4:57 am
by Viral
lace a joint to da point ur maced n graced wit razors jabbed into ur throat wit no case for papers to grab a trace

Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2008 11:09 am
by Gutta
smash ya face, put colors in ya death ta make ya fate abstract, outdate ya ass, hate to do it but i gotta celebrate mah task