"comming compressed verse 3" By: T-Bone

here it is verse three ties me in to the words I speak going down into history to be that baddest m.c. known to annoint the games destiny by words spoken turning wheels smoking lungs revolt convulsing heaving to breath with the feelings I need to up hold the soul till eternal sleep I burn the domes into an inferno I explode on to the scene try and hold the throat no pulse you choke I been broke so I'm using my talents you note hanging on a cliff hanger of hope but nope not Sylvester stalone instead I'm just a Mexican from in and out the tone alone traggic to be left to Rome slowly my biography comes in to expose tightly grop the chains made like rope no joke whatcha know bout my ninja Slick getting out bout to here this and many soldiers that ain't been as blessed but for them I'm urged to flip the games cold I can't even begin to explain the type a trauma the head takes beyond a world left to fend yourself till death milks the eye color when removing your soul with nothing left to show the whole globe the blessing God laid within the mold slow this life now I go trudging me those wheels I instill my life you once had never known but if I'm never heard at least I tried to enhance the chance to bring my soul to the lagecy I unfold so you can't say no one had ever known the this Bone had the skill to burn out this cold.