Roast Beef

I’m ready to spaz -blast phat shat
Splattering average acts
Slash with a rapping axe
Get gashed with the font
Smashed with the back
Rhythmatic savage stabbing the track
And leaving it lying there leaking
My style is far too advanced
Pansy be crying and pleading
Handle me? Never could ya
I’m just too good son
Go kaboom when I say it
And you’ll stay where I kaput ya
I’ll wrap a mic cable around your neck and then I’mma pull it until you go pop
So stop- my flows hotter than lava
Jack, I’m that sick
Rappers get slapped with a flaccid dick
And their rhyme-books ripped up
Scattered, slathered in piss
Spitting excrement
Excited I step, set on the precipice
When I arrive I’ll jet
And the fly higher than heaven is
(if that exists)
But I ain’t getting into that now
The beat is pounding loud
So I’m about to lay the smackdown
You max out at four
But I’mma double it up
Let me summon the troubled gut and leave you stumbling, son
Check it, I reckon I rock and I roll
I’mma set it way better than y’all and ill blow it up
I can now say that I’m well on my way
I connected a sick multisyllabic flow
And I’m kicking it, wicked- when I get to spitting
I rip it in two, I’m in tune with the rhythm
I’m giving em all of it, bottled or canned
I can shatter your frame with a mic in my hand
If you want it, come get it- I’m steadily moving
And proving that you cannot even compute it
I do it to music, I do it to nothing
I do it for me and that’s end of discussion
I’m bombing upon it and breaking the beat
You be talking a lot, but not saying a thing
When you add it all up, it’s abundantly clear
No competitor’s ever been hanging with me
So punk, pump your brakes
I run the race verbally
Concussed and maimed
You’ve come for brain surgery
Like J. Dahmer-
I’mma lobotomize your mind eternally
And arrange your circuitry
Until ya heard of me
You think you’re gonna stop me?
You’re gonna have to have an army
I’ll mow your slags roast beef
Out back of the Arby’s
Then blast ya with a cap-gun
Just for being wack son
I’ll roast your faggot style
In the trash out back of the Pacsun
Send ashes back
Or I’ll scatter em on a smacking track
Kato kicking ass
Like high-schoolers and hackey-sacks
Action packed
Drifting my Jetta, blasting acid-jazz
Your favorite rappers got flows?
Go grad his ass a maxi pad
Phat in fact
Super superb- swerve: elegant
Back to back
Purging a verse- burst; intelligent
Indelible, I’m making my mark
Marks’ll go silent
Making sure your read my rhyme
Every time that you close your eyelids
Fuck that overdone shit
I don’t need no punch in
Just give me the microphone
I’ll treat your whole crew to a luncheon
You cunts with your fancy videos
Be on some dumb shit
I’ll blow holes in your dome
Prone to throw flows and run shit
Bust it
I’ll destroy your meek, toy plans
You’re feeling weak when you see me
In my b-boy stance
So look away, man- no second glance
Slam anybody for tampering
Leaving em tucking like buffalo bill
Still devoid of a chance
You’re a big mouth like Fairuza Balk
Or Malachi from Children of the Corn
I’m scorning y’all in bulk
Ya’ll are dull and dumb
But kid, i come equipped with a spark
When its all said and done
You won’t forget the name
It’s Jarv