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J-Live – Braggin’ Writes (1996) [HQ]

J-Live – Braggin’ Writes (1996) [HQ]

Bookings: http://jlivetour.com
J-Live, As an emcee, deejay, producer, J-Live’s music has been a staple of inspiration for listeners of underground hip hop from New York to Cali and around the world. His discography spans over 15 years and includes five full length albums, four EPs and countless guest appearances and features. In support of these records J-Live has toured around the world.

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Comment (26)

  1. 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 to 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 look upon 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, but it evaporated
    I displays my credentials over instrumentals
    And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential
    It's detrimental questionin' my thesis
    The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis
    I rip your rhyme 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 rapping, and only few can flow
    So why the hell they trying to deal with Live I don't know
    I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
    So if you got some bullshit, please keep it on the low
    Cause yo, I got the hair-splittin', self-written unbitten style
    That leaves the competition running scared and shaking in their pants
    You best to set it off cause black it ain't no second chance
    Once I'm open, all you doing is hoping 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 special ed if you think you got it made
    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
    Cause everybody's rapping, and only few can flow
    So why the hell they trying to deal with Live I don't know
    I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
    So if you got some bullshit, please keep it on the low
    Cause everybody's rapping, and only few can flow
    So why the hell they trying to deal with Live I don't know
    I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
    So if you got some bullshit, please 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, hanging loose like a fender bender
    I recommend regardless of your gender
    That you strike fucking with J-Live from your agenda
    And remember that whoever lends a helping hand to defend ya
    Will get burned to a cinder
    As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies
    Rendering me sick, with the thoughts of killing enemies
    But then I return to reality
    Metaphorically murdering MC's when they battle me
    You can't rattle me
    I'm not your average snake slithering through the grass
    I surpass the serpent as I head to class
    You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style's no joke
    But you best belive I gets the last laugh

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