BOOM-BAP IS BACK
missin Verse 1) Yo, check the mic, one two, let the rhyme flow commence, yo Droppin' wisdom on the track, makin' perfect common sense. It's the return of the boom-bap, the sound that you been missin', Pay attention to the message, you might learn if you listen. I'm an architect of rhythm, a lyrical engineer, Buildin' flows that penetrate the soul and conquer fear. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, every verse is precise, Spittin' fire on the mic, 'til the beat turns to ice. From the cradle to the grave, I'mma keep the mic warm, Ridin' high on the waves, weatherin' every storm. (Verse 2) YO YO YO, Yeah, the mic is still ignited, the crowd is all united, By the sound of the truth, for so long we were slighted. Now I'm back on the scene, with a message that's potent, Every single word is carefully chosen and spoken. Got my ear to the street, got my finger on the pulse, Call me a revolutionary when the rhythm starts to convulse. I ain't chasing fame, I'm just chasing feelin', Of the beat and the lyrics, a spiritual healin'. From the underground depths, where the realness resides, To the top of the charts, where the fakeness collides Yeah, this the realness, the feelin' that you lack, HF Hitforce, puttin' authentic on the map. It's the essence of the street, the boom-bap sound, We the prophets of the rhythm, layin' anchors down! YO YO!!! Ight we good here
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missin Verse 1) Yo, check the mic, one two, let the rhyme flow commence, yo Droppin' wisdom on the track, makin' perfect common sense. It's the return of the boom-bap, the sound that you been missin', Pay attention to the message, you might learn if you listen. I'm an architect of rhythm, a lyrical engineer, Buildin' flows that penetrate the soul and conquer fear. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, every verse is precise, Spittin' fire on the mic, 'til the beat turns to ice. From the cradle to the grave, I'mma keep the mic warm, Ridin' high on the waves, weatherin' every storm. (Verse 2) YO YO YO, Yeah, the mic is still ignited, the crowd is all united, By the sound of the truth, for so long we were slighted. Now I'm back on the scene, with a message that's potent, Every single word is carefully chosen and spoken. Got my ear to the street, got my finger on the pulse, Call me a revolutionary when the rhythm starts to convulse. I ain't chasing fame, I'm just chasing feelin', Of the beat and the lyrics, a spiritual healin'. From the underground depths, where the realness resides, To the top of the charts, where the fakeness collides Yeah, this the realness, the feelin' that you lack, HF Hitforce, puttin' authentic on the map. It's the essence of the street, the boom-bap sound, We the prophets of the rhythm, layin' anchors down! YO YO!!! Ight we good here
I'm only 12 so I'm young still gng