Artist: Liquid Mindz Song: Liquidation Season Beat: Unknown Beat Typed By: Lil' Buddha Don Seis: It’s liquidation season of manipulation, racing for the anticipation Sit back so I can fuck your co-ordination… The ratio of me destroying emcees…. Is drowning you like a 100 metres of precipitation, have patience And prepare for elimination, if ya haven’t heard here’s the… Notification…I’m blazing now who you think your facing…. It’s me and Jason, still racing, you still hating Lock you up in my basement Niggaz and nosy Caucasians get fucked too…no contemplation My conversation knock you out wit the 1-2, 3-4 combination I lace you open wide and read my proclamation, it’s nice like a hoe giving you some deep falation now I’m in the affirmation, my information give deep interpretation give her double penetration, no identification, no paper-chasing give this mic a sensation, better yet…a liyrical molestation hip hop my motivation, ante wit my representation ill collaboration, monstrous creation, unbelievable foundation no vacation got you fucked up like you niggaz ail in California painful like a bitch…. Lil Buddah: My verbal stance is of the utmost respected throughout the lands Break reputations over background vocals from orchestra bands When we dance, I tango wit the most lethal individuals Leave em with blurry visuals, when I shatter they optical retinals I grapple battle cats wit the stamina of desert camels Leave they confidence rattled as I prey on em like they human cattle My spiral hook, jooks most of those hidden in the shadows Stabbing the DARKNESS... wit the light emitting from my CIRCUMFERENCE Low tolerance, I gots no patience for any mediocrity My intelligence is on point wit Aristotle or Socratees Philosophies presently already light years ahead of mankind Destined to shine...meant to battle extra-terrestrial minds Reach galactical, travelling in my outer-space vestibule Conquering systems of planets at a much greater amplitude My attitude...is that I can drop any and all competitors Stepping into my radius as potential microphone challengers I count on one fist, all legitimate status contenders That means none what-so-eva, I’m the solitary controller Mic keeper, I might grab your arm, and rip out your whole skeleton Spineless wit no support, emcees collapse like geleton Don Seis: The presentation rhymes we bury, infiltration, emancipation Your rhymes is immigrant, time for deportation Toe to toe competition the whole population Love this combination, it’s the…spic and the asian Time for domination for the real undergrown nation Words in-between quotation, my dedication is for the real situation Causing irratation to these niggaz, now it’s mutilation Waitin for the salvation, no subtraction just multiplication Like give me a standing ovation, the sweet smell of glory like coronation Now you want a conversation, don’t want no retaliation Divide you up like a single plantation causing an annihilation More and more acceleration, for the the duration My lyrical corporation give a mind a spectation To the next generation, my publication is ill like the hot 97 station Ill flows always come back in carnation even in decapitation Always resuscitation, cardio-pulmunary, three times and rehabilitation Massive evacuation, blood spray-tion, no education Kinda makes me wonder if you have mental retardation Bring myself, don’t need a fucking invitation, why you spittin? It’s only precious air that you wastin, time for a lyrical assassination My commendation for niggaz trying to overcome the vibration… Fortification, take you back to the titillation, where’s no violation Or I can hit you harder than a thousand clips put together to make a single weapon Now it’s the session for niggaz lashing in a different fashion My bashing lasting longer than a banchi, come again And I’ll be mashing every single rhyme, that you ever thought would be lasting Lil Buddah: Arsonistic artist…(pause)…I paint murals of fire On the canvas which I battle, grapple wit a burning desire My profile son is that of a professional masterpiece author Portfolio filled wit scripts of a natural born microphone splitter Prolifically pyrotechnic about the shit that I make Gotta be hot enough to set fire to hell yo…make no mistake I’ll take the elevator down, to burn Lucifer at the stake Light up more emcees than candles on an 80 year old birthday cake My heart rate pulsates, as I elevate my mind state Meditate on my potential to penetrate your fuckin chest plate Like old age, I’ll disintergrate the inner walls of your rib-cage And re-arrange your frame to resemble a victim on the front page Most lose cartilage, fucking around wit the knowledge DS and LB take hostages like a couple of terrorist Don Seis and Buddah son, recognize the alias dunn Latino and chino collaboration, verbal decapitation Sever heads wit the precision of a surgical mic incision Lacerations leave emcees wit multiple facial disfiguerations a couple bars from either me or Nester puts you in a state of confusion concussions leave brain contusions…I’m bruising, explosive like cold-fusion while you losing I’m still pushing your cranium to the back of your skull now that’s a fuckin lyrical execution