Lung Collapsing Lyrics Pt. II (Vocal)

S.O.U.L. Purpose ft. Percee P - “Lung Collapsing Lyrics Pt. II”
[Produced by King Koncepts and Zvi Edelman]
[Scratches by DP One]

[Verse 1: Mazzi]
I said: I’ll hit you with
The intricate syndicate. Unique with no duplicate
I’ll strike like Mike fighting writing, so writing’s ludicrous
Get deeper than a uterus when doing this. As words catch flight
I’ll serve heads like a stewardess. First-class
To surpass your dumb ass, accelerate [?]
[?] nickel-plate. The breath controls
I use’ll make the average hyperventilate. Eliminate
The process and elevate through the progress. Man, fuck them all
I understand [?] for excess
Wackness is prohibited, considered null and void
I’m a freaky teacher and speaker like The Herculoids
Deployed many ways, put in work berserk
If need be, I’ll grab a shovel and I’ll do my dirt
Now who want to mess with this lyrical antagonist?
When I grab the mic, I twitch, switch protagonist
War, rock all who call at the start of brawl
Want to battle? [?]. I’m always on call
Before you start to walk, you’re best to learn how to crawl
Root firm foundation, so I rarely, barely fall, and if
I slip, I’ll flip right back to attack position
Regardless of my condition, I’m a soldier with a mission
Got the competition wishing that I foggy up my vision
[?] of my soul, one of my nuts take a hold
I possess a secret weapon, repping the power of soul
Yeah

[Verse 2: Percee P]
Chicks attack and grab us ‘cause our rapping status is that we got the baddest
Style that can have kids leaving with a breathing apparatus
Lay clowns with stray rounds from my trey-pound. Stay down
Charged with eight counts when they found a mic with my friends on the playground
Get your clique, bro, and tiptoe before I spit flows and rip throat for miles
Because it blows. That’s how shit goes. Said: keep your lips close
Consider Perc’, spit a verse without or with a curse
Compound patterns add to the first. You niggas thirst My shit’ll burst
‘Cabularies. Egos are adversaries, raps are scary
You’ll have to worry ‘cause [?] is imaginary
[?] bigger offense. Nigga
Dig your coffin. Your mouth has got liquors talking, what?
Ratta tatta like a gat, I shoot data at your bladder
So scatter ‘cause I splatter brain matter just for chatter
Hope you run. Displays are like switchblades with AIDS
I get paid. My shit played more than kids crave Pokémon
Rap deacon from that region that get acts even with gats
Leaving the game and fame behind like Cat Stevens
Inspired pro retire foes. P ain’t liable. Trying to blow
Require dough. Niggas die at shows trying to bust these rapid-fire flows
Manipulate rhymes, liquidate, and rip a break, bitch
Get a whip and grapes. I’ll lick the plate and them things them strippers shake
It’s like this and like that, y’all. Black
I’m back to smack these wack new jacks who rap, y’all

[Verse 3: Mazzi]
“Collapse Lungs” with my “Lyrics”—that’s word to Percee P
So next time, B, think again before attempts at versing me (See?)
Thoroughly, surgery verbally turn and gun
Third-degree clinically, critically burning son
Yeah, that’s right. Let me slow down (Sike). You still want
To bring it? Whatever. Better have your padded clothes
Those who oppose, I suppose, are my foes
Flows pose at shows from highs to lows, from domes
To toes. [?] and clothes exposed
Of all who chose to play the roles of those who fit
The mold to hold the skills [?]
When hoes reveal and still expose their nose
And clothes at shows. For real, shoot more ice
Than Super Bowls for meals, they’ll run short like Muggsy
Bogues for pills and drills, so souls are sold to close
A deal. We’re still for real