Duel of the Iron Mic

Yo, picture bloodbaths in elevator shafts
Like these murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft
Check the print, it's where veterans spark the letterings
Slow-moving MCs is waiting for the editing
The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element, that burned down your ministry
Herbal vapors and biblical papers
Smoking Exodus, every square yard is plush
Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions, facial expression
Leaves impression, try to keep a shark nigga guessing
Give crazy shouts, son, here's the outcome
Cut across the semi-gloss rhymes you floss
Shit is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored Shearlings
I ain't particular, I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th, from Bed-Stuy
Where money don't grow on trees and there's thieving MC's
Who cut-throat to rake leaves
They can't breathe, blood splash, rushing fast
Like running rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver