Reverse back to the verse
I throw ya in you cursed
Watch me put them rhymes in a hearse
Sound the eulogy
Cuz none get next to me
Im swift as bruce lee
Kicks hard like Chung Li born in 83
Add the 4 more ya get *******
Im crazier than Cujo these putos
Dont want it on the mic
You aint murderin nothin'
but ya own sight
I brailled ya envision changed your decision
Whatin' n guessin' a prediction?
Is it me or is it the way the
Way my rhymes please ?
Bow to ya knees
I make the crowds freeze
Even ya fans say bless you! when i sneeze
I bet you still wear dungerees or high heels with tight capris
I thought ya heard  im the rappin' don Shapiro
Shine n spin  around haters like disco
Sip old school Sisqo hit the blunts slow
Let the smoke meditate my mind flow
Learn how to grind ill put  ya on a flat line
Resuscitate your rhymes just to put you back on the flat line
Searchin' for the light im dolemite
My game **** tight know how to write
When ya step to legend im gifted
Young black n hung
I keep ya lifted
Got hoes on the tip of they toes
Just to hear suave flow
Pockets of dough
Thats how it goes
Pistol cocked to ya nose
Ya thoughts are froze i suppose
Dont redeem ya self
My rhymes hittin' so hard
Made the minds deaf
Cuz when ya try to diss me ya diss ya self
The microphone murderer
Aint never left !!!!

Yo everyboy gather around
Hand me the crown
Cuz ya know im King of the ****
My NY freestyles stay lit
TEXAS is where i reign
Home of the ******* up clique
This life i live aint no ****** puzzle
Tryin to figure me out gets gun to ya muzzle
Dont meddle in my ****
Spinnin' out the wombs
From cradle to my tomb
Im hittin' ya curves that go straight
Flows penetrate so hard make girlies mind  *******
Who can relate?
To my skills raws as ever
Goin' in with my raw potato skin
Bust my nut then i leave em blowin in the wind
If ya a hater i gotta mack 10
Extra clips on my hips ****** done then i dip
Listen closely to the story being told
I wont grow old never will i fold
Platinum or Gold knots
check the tic toc
My money on clockwork  
rolex watch
Worth 50 gran an on the other hand
Is the microphone
Turn the amps up mic up
Leave crowds minds blown
From nut being shown my tone
Is laid back these nigguhs
Spittin' is wayyy wack
While you pushin' Honda im in a Maybach
No frills only the real i spit so you can feel
Givin' head aches to radio station
Cant tune me out im like exacerbation
Crush my opponent everytime he bust a rhyme
They give up even before they heard mine
Intimator from dope originator
Now im the terminator eliminator
Showed up yo party they still didnt play ya
Im old school fool soul filled with blues
Leave my competitiors on front line news
It goes a little like this
This is a replica of a Chris this aint a diss
But an address
To you punks who wanna **** around
With the master of this ****
Duck quick or these rounds will put you in the ground
Flat line..........

Sometimes I wonder
What would the sun do
if it wouldn’t give us light?
What would the moon do
if it didn’t illuminate the night?
One the eliminator of darkness
The other one makes it beautiful
We are all living with a purpose
Some know it
Some, unaware of the mysterious truth
Let’s face it
We are living a life of routines
Our days rushing one into the other
We are all ceasing without meaning
Existing, fading,
Waiting to be discovered...

Frozen in thought . . .
the silver gray moon bends
the sun's will toward an earthly
gravel grave in the Walker County
strip pit .

It was only yesterday . . .
when the Cougar Eliminator
prowled the highways of disappearing
white stripes seeking a crescent city moon that lays naked in the bending arms of it's river lover

"Drive !" , he said . . .
so I hit the pedal hard spinning tires
and burning up the moments in haste
that I would someday regret throwing
to the stars

Like a wolf howls at the moon . . .
we howled at our youth . . .
so far from home unaware we were truly all alone in bent light of folly

The horizon cradled the moon . . .  
slipping beyond the bridges of our possibilities and I am thinking of Macbeth blowing out his candles

"Drive !" , he said . . .
life is a stage , a highway going forward measured by our distance divided by time we are so defined

I have driven to the moon . . .
collected sunbeams and bent the light
and drove back howling with a midnight's voice warm in the south by southwest winds

So I will drive on . . .

I have been hiding in the swamps
for a dog-gone long week
allday i have been trying to move my feet
through the mud and the blood of mosquitos and alligators
with the eye of a eliminator
and with the hand of a monkey
i was painting a portrait
of myself
without a helping hand

the swamps
fireflys in my oil lamp
the swamps
a big fire was burning at the end
of the swamps

The vines fell from the tree
nearly fell on me
all night i was using up my matches
for no good reason at all
exhausted i was laughing at
silly parrots and spiders jumping in the fire
while the frogs made the score
like an out of tune choir

the swamps
the shadows were tall
the swamps
bigger than the biggest hall
oh the swamps

Call me what ever you want.
I was raised on highway star
& smoke on the water,
a bit of purple haze
& a whole lotta love.
Ain't nothing strange
'bout La Grange &
that girl with faraway eyes
was never my beast of burden.
I got tied to the whipping post
& survived with the young turks
on the stairway to heaven.
So it really doesn't matter
what name you call me.
But just imagine
if you drank some eliminator,
you'd be stone blue too.
And that alone,
makes me invincible.