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COB Lab Cypher
COB Lab Cypher -

[Julius Luciano]
The track tie with my spittin, my rap and the beats inseparable
Like a fat guy and Richard Simmons
Like a bad eye and astigmatism
Like the Christian religion and Anti-Semitism
Like a Rabbi and religious wisdom
It’s a harmonius blend baptized in a rhythm
Im in a dark hole in the pen, arms folded I sit
Til I start noticing the dark glowing
My thoughts roaming, that’s when heart flowing begins
Listen I meditate in the art form of the Zen
Julius Luciano the dark poet is him
Moses-esque, my words I part oceans with them
Drop any foe, in my city hold
The last niggas breathin like the arc Noah was in
We far over par, COB is rulers we start local and then
March global and win, homie you hear us in the car home of the pin?
My Circle score, when we hit the Internet like when the ball go through the rim
Spark toasters, have you lookin like Hulk Hogan
Part most of your wig, hollow tip darts open your lid
Yall aint showin me no heart, til I carve open your ribs
Heart cold as the fridge, push your car over the bridge
You in the ocean with the sharks, hope you could swim
Im wild Mr. Luci, complex nigga
Smilin, piece medallion and couffie
Im foul nigga sue me, but don’t question me
Snatch your eyes out , swallow them whole, now interview me
The shit im spittin is pure, the greatest movement with a mic since the victory tour
You say youre sick with it sure, if you sick I invented the sickness
Fixed an elixir to shit up, spittin’s the cure

[Kenny Siegel]
Now if I need green, the scene might get graphic
I blow my strap like trees and pass it in a bush
Roll my green like its grass with jacket
I’ll leave you sleepin, your scent rancid
In beef, I’ll take your seed and then strap em to my hood
And leave full speed against traffic
Think your screws loose? Me, my shits absent
My speech mean, my spits  amino-esque acid
A loose leaf beast, I lose sleep thinking
Of different techniques to seduce these beats
And chew these weak MCs til Im a few feet deep
Leave em deceased but dude leaks ink
For guap, I’ll maim your hoe and drop her into Davey Jones’ locker
I might rob a copper to cop a coppertone boxten??
Who got a few issues, feud with Shoes
My strap sick, I blow my snub nose through tissues

Yo, I said Im the best at it, Im stress magnet
I put my life in a bullet and let your chest have it
Thats just my lifestyle, looking for a bitch to pipe down
Hangin with a bunch of niggas, but Im light brown
So do the math, that means my skill is double yours
And I swing from both sides like a double door
And Im creeping, I pass by in slo-mo
Dodger hat to the side like the Badboy logo
But this is COB, West Coast Dynasty
Best in the city and test those who try to be
A lot of rappers in the city where I come from
But Im my own man and moving at my own drum

This is my aim man
I aint never ran man, I aint ever been no rubber band man
But hang on the block with my glock in my hand
Runnin in til my shit go bare
Like god damn man, Im so cold
I don’t give a fuck about no hoe
On the low with a fo, with a hoe
On the floor, with a dick she blow, so im bustin her throat
I never elope, I’d rather choke a hoe with my dick
Bitch that’s tight like a rope
Im loco, loco all the way, but my dick work fine
Turn her around hit it from behind
But my dick’s so big that I break her spine
Im on the mic, like what you cant see
Like I aint got the motherfuckin, circle with me
You pushin me, its off with your head
I don’t want to have to fill you with lead
That’s waste of ammunition
I’ll put you in position, of wishin and crying
Think of fuckin with this??
Can I get a witness – Whoo its sickness
Lick your lips, if you aint gona lick dick
I aint gona cut it no more,  im gona rip it
From your face im mutilatin, with excessive rape
I seen the mate, wait nine months and seal your fate
Wait - cuz this is an addiction more serious than your whole religion
COB can you hear me spittin, open your ears and a fucker listen
I am on a mission, forced to lickin
On a bitch who wont be spittin
Rippin lines from bar to bar, bumpin to Cali from my car??
Kenny Siegel on the phone, Karelezz on the O
Now that’s right Im back in my second home
So where the girls at, where the females at
Call Sauce the Boss, where the weed at
I got a purple rain for Mick Vick, look at this shit its so sick
My flow spittin is godsent, so fuckin with me is nonsense

Im readin the book of life as the pages turn
Makin money is my main concern
Fuck the haters they can taste my sperm
They talk shit but I don’t listen
I stays on my BI, faced with charges
Im beatin cases like TI
Tryna do whats right
Livin in LA, youre lucky if you make it through the night
As a youth I didn’t listen
My momma told me never talk to strangers, now Im doin business with them
Money laundering, always on the run from the cops
I getting caught again, Im livin
This thug shit aint a gimmick its apart of him
Keep it on the hush, getting weeded off the kush
I be creepin by your house see me creepin in the bush
Waitin for you to come out, hoppin out with the guns out
Like homie pour the funds out
Call me the bill collecta, we keepin it real
When youre able to rap and have the streets still respect ya
I blow trees with OGs, who sold keys back in the day
For 24 Gs, back in the gate??
But me im in a thief, and do or die is the only religion that I believe in
My mission is succeeding
Unlockin safety as Im waving the pump
Talk shit or we gon you duct taped in the trunk
Your suit will get so messy, if you don’t stop movin
Grotesque Ill pop it and stab you like Joe Pesci
Every man for themselves, holdin their own
Watch what you sayin, cops listen on the phone
The IRS wanna question how we rollin on chrome
The eyeballs get stiff, when we passin by cuz they know
That this rap shits just an alibi, source of income unknown
How many haters be praying they could be sittin on One’s throne
Stackin my Gs, none of these rappers can keep up
Im moving too fast, enemies are getting wary
Keep making this money by any means necessary

On the west hear the click-clack
Little bit of spit-splat
Its probably Karelezz, look back
but it aint a nine, I shoot rhymes, where your raps at
If you try to yap back, flip the hat back
I write so cash that, ASCAP, might need another tax brack
The way Im manufac back these rap facts
Learn from Crooked, Badass, Rass Kass
And stack raps so high, even aliens laugh seeing my asscrack
Humans are my labrats, always get the last laugh
Stand back, to advance, enhancin on the fast track
So stop rappin with your wackass, you’ll get your ass lapped
Snatched by your backpack, dragged til your back crack
So bad that the pigs will need to call a hazmat
Got your eyes poppin out like flapjack
Flippy, detach your head and kick it like hacky-sack
Always been a bad man but wear black like Batman
Half philipino with man hands Im raps pacman
Runnin through the competition even if I had a belly like a fat man
I would eat your but you look better in a trashcan
So take your wack fans, and your wack dance
And you’re little ducks, im crushin all you half-lacks
Your shits slow, im the future, past that
I spit dope in past tense, watch how my spat crack
Im that bad tapdancin on your wackass
Actin like we gon slap hands, now you got your trap smack
Cracked and your back snapped
Your man better stand back, or BLEHH - it’s a rap black
Dam im in a rat pack, split that
Roll em up, hit that, pass that
Puffin on that riff-raff
Got my breath stinkin, need a Futhermucking, tictac
Reversing words when I spit raps
On my splat shit, look up when my shit splats
Its higher than giraffe shit
I need another has shit?? To sit back
Chillin with God over the planets and sit back
Come back to earth, raps in tact
Catch me on stage blunt bigger than a pickaxe
Puff-puff pass, man that shit is a mismatch

[Julius Luciano]
I write sporadically, this how my book gets filled
I think of some good shit I chill
My sentiments start bursting, on the page if the first thing
That I might put sends chills
Up my spine, and it rhyme with some good shit yeah
I get my listeners hooked then reel
Them in, I begin then I just get ill
Say some shit like “I wanna fuck bitches livin single”
Fuck it ima put Kim Fields
In my bed, spread her legs, give her that wood until
She scream, now that’s good dick skill
Now look how the puss get killed
Chase every tail, even fairytale(tail)
Ring Tinker’s bell, and fuck Jack’s good friend Jill
I asked her would this hill be too much for her to climb
Put Little Red Ridin Hood in heels
Put Alice in Wonderland, she wonderin
Bout my stamina, you see Alice, I took six pills
See how the book gets filled
Now look how I just switched reels
Check it the recession hit hard, but we hood rich still
Our dollars stack tall, you got Bushwick Bills
I wanted to have Bush wig killed, cuz of the fucked up economy
Poverty made a good kid steal
Wherever I could get steel, a crook cuz I would miss meals
Never could sit still, my older brother would sit steel
On the dresser, told me without it, “Young niggas would get killed”
I move straight on some rook shit still
Again this is how my book gets filled
Im ruthless, take your top off your roofless
Your dog don’t bark, they ruff-ruff-less chillll
you guys know the

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