Power Of Iron Lung Tactics

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[Intro] Iron lung tactics, blastin’ through traffic, Coughin’ out classics, rugged and Jurassic. I ain’t your average — I’m the ash in your plastic, Kase the savage, wordplay elastic. Iron lung tactics — scope on the Atlas, Staten with the madness, steel-toed status. Ain’t no peace when I’m creepin’ through brackets, Snatch your whole steez, then dip through the passage. [Verse 1] Yo, I’m the shadow in the alley with the eyes that gleam, Inhale the black smoke — exhale the dream. Came from the slums where the crack fiends scream, Now I’m laced like a laser in a red beam team. Spit hot lead, grill ’em like propane stoves, I’m the Meth Lab chemist in them old gray robes. Y’all talk slick? I’ll peel back your goals, Throw darts at your temple ’til your whole soul folds. Used to mop floors in the temple of doom, Now I pop metaphors like balloons in a room. Style doom-heavy, got that diesel perfume, Kill a beat, then I vanish like I stepped off Zoom. [Verse 2] I’m the ghost in the grain, the stain on your linen, I write pain in the margins, with venomous pen ink. Ain’t no gimmick, I’m a menace to your Senate, Rappin’ like my lungs cough bullets per minute. I’m the reason your cassette tape pop, Had the block yellin’ “Kase back!” like the bass don’t stop. I’m the grime in the gutter, the flicker in the lamp, The shank in your sentence, the champ in the camp. So stand back, I break beats like glass jaws, Hood hero — been known to bend back laws. Ain’t no pause, I’m full blast in the session, Turn my mic to a weapon, teach a class in aggression. [Verse 4] I’m the wolf in the parka, darker than Gotham, Swingin’ through the mist with a fist full of problems. Chain swing heavy like a noose on a convict, Talkin’ that jazz? Get stomped in your concepts. Mind like a maze where the killers get locked in, Fire in the verse like the furnace in Compton. Eyes never blink when I stare through the silence, I rap like a war drum laced with violence. ⸻ [Verse 5] One dart from the lung leave your posse in silence, Drop lines so foul, need a Vatican license. Slick with the slang, got a switchblade sentence, My bars pull souls out the frame like vengeance. Catch me in the cipher with the hooded-up giants, Cookin’ up quotes that explode like science. Spit like a monk with a vendetta grippin’, My flow smoke-signal, my tone forbidden. ⸻ [Verse 6] Break bread or get your head split crooked, The pen draw blood like a priest when he book it. I rhyme like a thief in a world full of cash, Steppin’ out the ash with a flask and a mask. Street-born sermon with a flame in the middle, Drop jewels so cold, make your chain feel brittle. I’m the storm that you smell when the sky turn black, The voice in the dark that be teachin’ you facts. ⸻ [Verse 7] I don’t preach, I apply heat to deceit, Every line hit harder than a cop in the street. I’m the slum-dweller’s prophet with a soul full of knives, Cut clean through the truth like I’m splitin’ the lies. Got the world in my palm like a Shaolin scroll, With the wrath of a god in a 40-ounce hold. Ain’t no fakin’ my image, I live what I pen, With a blade in my verse and a grin on ten.

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