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danny florio - coffin closer (passionate mc diss) lyrics
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f-ck a p-ssionate, play time and talking over
off this poser, hit you with the coffin closer
your appearance image looking like the weirdest gimmick
now you gearing near the limit, your career is finished
call your fans -ss-ssins, activate a barrier
everything you do, you -ss-ssinate your character
they like your stolen bars, copying the sk!lls
they f-cked and not know it, you like cosby with the pills
body with the chills, most see the cold in you
no need for roasting you, joe lee’s exposing you
you ain’t an o.g., most see the hoe in you
matter fact this the second battle and you 0 for 2
a big fish in a small pond, you hate to face
how i set you up, this biter gonna take the bait
said you better than eminem, you scandalous
how a fan of canibus turn to stanibus
if you plan to diss, serve you like a party platter
dissing marshall mathers even though you hardly matter
using him for fame, dub a line and keep recorded
justify the reason for it just to seem important
bit chino xl with that kilt line
switched around the words a little, made it still rhyme
lie to people rhyming evil like your writing’s lethal
chop suey, won’t spare ribs since you biting chino
paying homage, this fake got screwed more
you do the same sh-t drake got sued for
sitting all in fear, spitting more severe
you calling me a cripple, but i crippled your career
failed at parenting, your daughter thinks you living larger
didn’t bother, hits you harder you a sh-tty father
doing shows while your wife’s at home, you can’t deny
all your antics hide the man inside who can’t provide
she’s buying diapers while you rap, you ain’t a family guy
tell that tramp to buy a proper fitting pamper size
make this dude suffer, really you should use rubbers
just a b-tch, so your daughter got two mothers
had to lie to wife her acting like you signed from cyphers
how this lying biter way too poor to buy a diaper
plus you single now, your wife left you misery
hitting up crystallee to give her d admittedly
you weren’t good enough, salty dude who’s dumb and bland
divorced you for another man forcing you to f-ck your hand
you do team back pack, never writing songs
only cyphers once a year that you rhyming on
you’re supposed to carry back packs, very true
it’s funny that you need a back pack to carry you
you never dropped an album, we can’t rely on you
so how you p-ssionate when all the p-ssion died in you
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