This fools name is cholo? I'll have you done fo sho You got whack ass lyrics I mean garbage Leaky like a faucet Your whole entourage Wish on a star ***** You'll never beat me Leave you in a ditch You're down for three I didn't know how to end it and you started yelling at me ;(
here's a freebie. Gonna drop my mixtape on March 2k15 in one of those adult websites yanno. :? Your mum stank I crank, She doesn't even want to thank. What I did to her Messed with her, I bend her over And gave her orders. Don't mess with me, You don't know me Coming at me like you gon show me What you got? Ain't nothing on me Cuz you a thot I'm on a spree. Killing spree, Killing thee, I'm flexible, and I am free Try me, fry me, I let you go You're bloody whiny Freestyle2k15
Ya can't blame me if you can't comprehend, you're literary skills are next to zero, Put the mike down cousin, i dont wanna hurt your sensitive ears, remember the noose that foo ashes mentioned? I dare you two thots to come push me off of the chair, nah punk asses couldn't, I took y'all both with me down to hell to meet Satan, your worst nightmares await, continue if ya wanna see them
While my brain is full of chronic, my mind is full of tension, my microphone progression is like out of this dimension. Bringing heat like Smith and Wesson on these PIMD streets, my ghetto fine Latin grammar perfects these blunt beats. My whole dorm is in here, all about smoking that, burning that green, got more dope than could be measured on a triple beam. Its obscene and quite a bit absurd, in the sound proof room straight blowing on that herb. I'm pin'point'n all my targets, proving who's the hardest, Jopo's that artist, fools drop like bargains. There aint no drug that will stimulate, or make you great. Accept fate, rappin was your mistake. That youngest tightest Latino fresh out that Golden State. Dropping rhymes back to back in a ridiculous pace. My mind seems to turn in different ways I'm in a daze. Then I bust the type of poop the average rapper cant play. I display true skillz, my microphone gets killed, I'm an assassin to lyrics while bustin poop you can feel. I got that number one appeal, like the Los Angeles Lakers bringing heat to you fakers while smoking 'cross by the acres. I'm ending your chapter bringing disaster, you're a fake, a fraud, a poor excuse for a rapper. While I'm a master of words, spittin these nouns and verbs. Drag your body 'round the street, make ur ass bite the curb. And leave you there on display for all the world to observe. Cuz this is lyrical warfare, and I'm a true soldier, i wont stop until the friggin' armaggedon is over. You need to stop look at the facts, analyze and realize, Jopo's the one and only lyrical assassin on the rise!