Jun 20, 2011 at 12:09AM EDT
Yo, what’s up M-Masta?
You the Rasta rhyma, the Masta of rappin’,
The, ultimate cool that makes the n00bs drool the,
Crafter a’ time, but not still like a mime because,
You come in with a chime that creates a sub-lime rhyme,
Fir-in the dime shinin’,
You, bring it to the amateurs,
And glorify the Ovetures, rollin’ through in a motor-turn,
See, what I’m tryin’ to say is you should be praised,
As the rapper of the century, and don’t repent from the, rap, because,
Masta’s the papa of the rap, the long sung song that deflects the wrong like ping-pong,
An, oblong, abstract track of un-tapped gold, a mold to keep away the trolls,
Keep your spirits high, and yo’ non-tolerance low, ‘cause you just gotta keep on rollin’,
You told them.
You know by them? The trolls that take a toll on your tomes and throw them, tryin’ to pwn them, but,
You cannot be defeated, for you are the leet men, you made the top ten, you laid the top trends, you are,
The ultimate rappa’.
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