Braggin' Writes (Revisited)

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 the Live one arrives with

The natural ability to run through your crew

From 2-1-4, 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 shit on how you're wettin MC's

with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain

I'm lookin on 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, that shit evaporated

I displays my credentials over instrumentals

And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential

It's detremental fuckin'wit my thesis

The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis

I rip your shit 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

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 shittin' 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 if you think you

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 everybody's rappin, but 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

Yes everybody's rappin, but 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 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 fuckin' 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 serpeant as I head the class

You consider me crass as I wax that ass

Style's no joke, but you best believe I gets the last laugh