Detonator
From “Hyphen”
Written & Produced by: Tonedeff
©2000 QN5 Music (ASCAP)
V1
I am the epitome of mentally fit lyrical wizardry/
Fear the ability, making miracles appear to you vividly/
With an affinity within me willing to deal every enemy penalties/
You’re over the line, cause you crossed me like symmetry/
You’re that pussy, cat that’s finicky like Morris/
Serving ya’ plate, but every inning you’re scoreless/
Making ya’ day like Doris, I’ll put you away for good like storage/
My formula’s more of a sure thing than a whore It’s:/
Shorten your life-span with a verse and a chorus/
I’m certain to floor kids, the minute I rip the curtains before us/
Asserting the forces of nature, burning ya’ forest/
Even hurling sterling performers twirling towards the camera lenses of discerning tourists Observing the horrors, as they take it all in like porous surfaces/
Spurting these murderous lyrical scourges/
Cause I’m a purist and you’re TRIFE life is purposeless/
Just give it up, like slutty mannequins, you’re a fake fuck/
It seems you lost all your sense like Helen Keller going bankrupt/
I’m pitch shifting, making your facial display change up/
Detaching your superfluous pieces like pay stubs/
You didn’t take nuff precaution/
Stepping to Tonedeff is like calling out Irish motherfuckers in Boston/
I’m hunting you down for goodwill, my game is out there/
You couldn’t rock in your grandma’s house chair/
My syntax rearranges your flesh like skin grafts/
The odds of you winning are slimmer than Ally McBeal on Slimfast/
You’re like them other actresses/
I’m tighter than 4 virgins in solitary confinement with hymens as THICK as rubber mattresses/
With asses split to make a perfect fit- like a cock in you/
I only play your shit to remind me what not to do/
I’m executing verses you thought were impossible/
From the JUMP, you were merely a hoppable obstacle/
Stick ya’ like Popsicle’s, in lines you stand in back of me/
On tracks, you couldn’t bust a nut while a slamming a hammer in the Planters factory/
I’m seedier that your papi, you’re a flower, son/
Your hour’s come in a plastic bag, just watch me devour some/
Your delusions of power’s done, cause each and all believe you need to fall/
So, I be torching up ya bleeding walls like Seton Hall/
Deleting beats and knocking your skull into a handy coffin/
So don’t be shocked when you’re the man on the moon like Andy Kaufman/
You’ll be deader than Bambi’s mom when/
The brush went up in smoke, you’re shit’s cheesier than the state of Wisconsin/
Yo, fate is a consonant/
Cause, “AE!!”, I-O-U nothing, you’ve just been ‘disem-voweled’ as I’ve been rocking shit/
You know the difference between you and a dog’s life?/
Yo, Eventually with training a dog’ll be nice.
