Ballistic

Verse 1: Yo, I’m the spark in the dark, iron heart with the flame lit, Bars carved sharp like the blade that your name split, Chain grip heavy, medallion swing cosmic, Flow so toxic, I cough up raw logic. BigTyyy mystic, I twist rhymes ballistic, Slick tongue wizard, spit scripts sadistic, Grip mics tight like the reaper do souls, Each quote cold, turn speakers to black holes. I’m that underground crown, sound pound like thunderclap, Wordplay juggernaut, bars make the jungle snap, Smoke rise slow when the rhythm get injected, Lines dissected, mind stay protected. Steel in my aura, I rhyme like a warlord, Sword forged pure, metaphors leave a scar, lord, I'm a menace, every line be the sermon, Burnin’ through your verses like a furnace determined. --- Hook: (Yeah) We bring that raw, that uncut flame, Name in the smoke, they respect that name, Bars too cold, let the ice drip pain, It’s that Wu-type mood, better guard your chain. (What?) Raw with the rhyme, no gimmick, no act, Facts on wax, I’m the one that they lack, If it ain’t real, better step off the track, We bring that boom-bap back to the map. --- Verse 2: Yo, I’m the ghost in the grime, soul in the cipher, Flow like a viper, strike when it’s riper, Rhyme lifer, I been ill since the wire, Built from the fire, desire got higher. Word chemist, mix slang with precision, Vision like a prophet, bars in collision, Every line hit, no cap, no fiction, Mind too sick, need bars for prescription. Crew full of dons, we stomp with conviction, Talk slick wrong, get chalked in depiction, Raw diction, cut through friction, Tyyy-type aura, pure addiction.