Madness by Mo Boucher Lyrics
[Verse 1: Mo Boucher]
Booth step up, roots head up
Settle those mc's who can't catch up, Mc's who dress up
Im under gutter outta sewage i ruin ya purpose by flowing so fluent abusing ya
The idiot Indian media style hideous
Im a serious genius unmask false criterias
Mysteriously drop bombs outta no where
Just like the Fed printing dollar bills outta no air
Oh yeah! call me the servant of god
Im capable of doing things what a serpent cannot
My purpose is hot , the way u feel tensed
Intensely drop rhymes and block your brain veins
U die with pain u can't survive the ill game
Chasing the fame u still lame
After the kill i realize that i mastered the skill
I feel the same as a pacifist feel
Vocals
Im caught in the grip of the city -madness (x4)
[Verse 2: Mo Boucher]
Most of yall are whack its true
No matter how hard i try i can't rap as bad as you
So i imprison ya , i destroy your mental in seconds
And leave your inner brain cells settle in venom
And that is when i get in the zone and you are proved wrong
Most of yall are opposite to me im too strong
Spit 99 bars of silver and you gone
Im the criteria to verify the truth from
How i propagate my legs i send shoots from
Effortlessly measure your temperature, yall are lukewarm
Im on the rooftop, grapple attack my moves drop like Lee im too hot
Bitch rapper got a fragile whack style
Im the actual factual rapper that will slaughter the brainless
Your life wouldn't ever be worth your face suggests
The aftermath of the massacre death i ain't forget
You ain't got the eyes to realize the main defect
You need a brain reset
Yall in deep shyt , my raps flowing smooth like street kids, what!!
Booth step up, roots head up
Settle those mc's who can't catch up, Mc's who dress up
Im under gutter outta sewage i ruin ya purpose by flowing so fluent abusing ya
The idiot Indian media style hideous
Im a serious genius unmask false criterias
Mysteriously drop bombs outta no where
Just like the Fed printing dollar bills outta no air
Oh yeah! call me the servant of god
Im capable of doing things what a serpent cannot
My purpose is hot , the way u feel tensed
Intensely drop rhymes and block your brain veins
U die with pain u can't survive the ill game
Chasing the fame u still lame
After the kill i realize that i mastered the skill
I feel the same as a pacifist feel
Vocals
Im caught in the grip of the city -madness (x4)
[Verse 2: Mo Boucher]
Most of yall are whack its true
No matter how hard i try i can't rap as bad as you
So i imprison ya , i destroy your mental in seconds
And leave your inner brain cells settle in venom
And that is when i get in the zone and you are proved wrong
Most of yall are opposite to me im too strong
Spit 99 bars of silver and you gone
Im the criteria to verify the truth from
How i propagate my legs i send shoots from
Effortlessly measure your temperature, yall are lukewarm
Im on the rooftop, grapple attack my moves drop like Lee im too hot
Bitch rapper got a fragile whack style
Im the actual factual rapper that will slaughter the brainless
Your life wouldn't ever be worth your face suggests
The aftermath of the massacre death i ain't forget
You ain't got the eyes to realize the main defect
You need a brain reset
Yall in deep shyt , my raps flowing smooth like street kids, what!!