Percee P (Verses vs Beats)

[Intro: Percee P]
Yeah, yeah, it’s The Monarch of the Subterranean, Legendary Lethal Lyricist, The Rhyme Inspector Percee P. Straight from The BX, Patterson projects. I’ma show out for my man DJ Blowout, yo

[Verse 1: Percee P]
I spit at you like a 9 milli do, fill and kill a crew
When syllables connect like umbilical cords, leave frauds
In critical. Lord, it’s pitiful. Better tell 'em I’m lethal
Burn his weak crew and all his people, flows eat through his brain. You can see
And reach through his cerebellum. Hurt a fake. When I serve a plate
No one regurgitates. Every word I state rip through bones and vertebrate
Increasing the murder rate. My fans are placed in rehab
My grammar's laced in more shit than sanitation
Every man is facing contamination. Heed advice
Percee P is nice, coming back to lead us twice like Jesus Christ
With more flow to blow. Now all you need is ice. Got my hands traced and a big fan base
From every land, race since this man laced tracks way back
And never seen my damn face. One of a kind, bright like
The sun when it shine when it come to my rhyme. If you’re dumb in the mind
Don’t sing none of my lines. Hit cities quick like pretty chicks
Perc’ ain’t no idiot and fifty-six get with me, shit
That’s a hundred-twelve titties licked. What?
Ratta tatta like a gat, I shoot data at you 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
Inspire pros, retired foes. Perc’ ain’t liable. Trying to blow
Requires 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