Artist: Dom Pachino f/ Bronze Nazareth, Kevlaar 7 Album: Tera Iz Him 2 Song: Vitamins Typed by: Cno Evil [Bronze Nazareth] Yeah, quarter to hash, boy midnight mass Please, leave the money, let's take care of the grass Administer sinister drag, while my life revoke It's like watching in slow motion how the dice would roll Motion picture drip the paper maestro, heist your bones Righteous leave the vice on violet poems, plus my mic is stone Never the same, switch it from the previous opening I flow opium, with spoken chains to cause a voltage I'm open mind frame, with air force like earth's door Wool's cloth forth from my aoetas to the floors Bitch spearing through beautiful massacres, off random of force Nickel holes big control, real tunnel to the soul So you feel me, and consider this, I will eat Ski mask elite hash, catch 'em on Wall Street My dirty deed niggas, bound like Reynolds ripping your teeth Stack all pots and dreams, tall as you can lick the streets Spitting close with you my son, the hotel rhyme schemes Otherwise, the sapphire barbwire nine please First man overboard, hyperthermic mind freeze Lines sharks sneeze, sparks mash off without the mask off The bro house we cultivate expand, rockets that blast off [Kevlaar 7] Post apocalypse coming, I got aces blazing You facing the king, fuck the fame, stain my realness Steal stage stainless, aim this at the cortex Spray the clergy, no mercy, sing the blues, if you choose Don't stop the burning, cotton field thoughts controlling The sea hawk genuine, penmenship exquisite Giving birth of menace, inpregnating the limits Death to the witnesses, wealth to the limitless Built this since '88, aiming for crazy cake Crime jewels is brass head, my niggas stay ratcheted Waiting for snakes, aiming to snatch my last bread [Dom Pachino] High calibur, mic javeler, wise man collabor The rest is unpararrel, coudln't match up my stature Move too fast so catch up, like a paint job get touched up Grip tight and crushed up, by my Soldiers of Darkness I light up the hood, every time that I spark this I get the NARc's pissed, I'm so dope One sniff of this Terrorist track, they can't cope I tell 'em, calm down, little nigga, and have a smoke Take a listen to my material, that's no joke No it's a apparent, that I'm the best at it Every time I drop a joint, they get ecstatic Fuck most consistant, I'm automatic This time I'mma make 'em eat it, like pre-natul vitamins for they wiz When they seeded, I had too much steam in my pipe, I had to bleed it They crying hungry, wanted food, I make 'em eat it, I make 'em it My dirty doctrines, higher protein, but causing some pain Going down, ya'll need some codeine, the flow's mean And rigid, cold and frigid, represent the seven digit Ya'll niggas coming up short just like a midget I stand tall, like that nigga in 300 Give you three fifty for fucking with me, if you want it