Braggin Writes

J-Live

This song also appears on "Haze Presents DJ Premier's Reality Check"  
  
 For underground metaphors  
 You can scrape an inch below the turf  for what it's worth  
 My style's been developed in the core of the Earth  
 The exhale's volcanic  the inhale is seismic  
 So brothers just panic when he Live one arrives with  
 The natural ability to run through your crew  
 From 2 1 4 to 2 1 3 to 2 1 2  
 In other words  from Dallas  to L.A., to the place where J stay  
 Everyday is mayday  
 So you can talk your trash on how you're wettin MC's  
 with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain  
 I look upon your brain with disdain  
 Go back and reflect on my endeavors black I can't complain  
 It's like a raw deal, consistant with the way I make you feel  
 The ends stay revealed while the means I conceal  
 And those who try to steal get decapitated  
 You wanna snatch my H2O type flow, but it evaporated  
 I displays my credentials over instrumentals  
 And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential  
 It's detremental questionin my thesis  
 The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis  
 I rip your rhyme to pieces after drainin out your fluid  
 My vocab is fluent yours is evident of being truant  
 I know you wanna make moves but son you best to take a second look  
 Before my knight takes your rook  
  
 Chorus:  
  
 Cause everybody's rappin, and only few can flow  
 So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know  
 I handle true MC's on their block or at their show  
 So if you come with bull kid, keep it on the low  
  
 Cause yo, I got the hairsplittin, self-written unbitten style  
 that leaves the competition running scared and shakin in their pants  
 You best to set it off cause black it aint no second chance  
 once I'm open, all you doin is hopin that the Live one  
 will put the mic down, but son don't try to snatch it after  
 The laughter won't cease from the comparison, how dare you son  
 Step around the booth when I'm on  
 The microphone magician says poof, you're gone with the wind  
 There's no trace of your friends cause you don't know where the  
 beginning ends or where the end begins  
 But you see that's the difference, you get sold, I get paid  
 Black I told you, get paid  
 If you're broke I'll have to rain on your parade  
 You belong in Special Ed if you think you Got It Made  
 J-Live with the mic is like the chef with the blade  
 Cause suckers get sliced and sauteed  
 Yeah, you thought your joint was fly but the flight was delayed  
 because  
  
 Chorus: repeat 2X  
  
 Cause yo, I take the grey matter of pretenders  
 through my mental blender, and then return to sender  
 My pen don't pretend to offend  
 I intend to render MC's, hangin loose like a fender bender  
 I recommend regardless of your gender  
 That you strike messin with J-Live from your agenda  
 And remember that whoever lends a helpin hand to defend ya  
 Will get burned to a cinder  
 As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies  
 Renderin me sick, with the thoughts of killin enemies  
 But then I return to reality  
 Metaphorically murderin MC's when they battle me  
 You can't rattle me  
 I'm not your average snake slitherin through the grass  
 I surpass the serpent as I head to class  
 You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style's no joke  
 but you best belive I gets the last laugh