Contest x 2500cr

[Intro — tape hiss, warped bass, clown breathing] Muahahaha… You came back. Good. The tape’s been waiting. [singer A — enters like a punch] Yeh okay LISTEN UP — This ain’t for no soft lil snitch, no punk-ass bitch, this is for my hustlers, my night-crawlin’ muscle, my gangsters who don’t flinch when the whole block rumbles. (gang gang) I flip the switch, turn this bitch into a furnace, volcano spit, lava drip, bars ordained like a curse hit. I take no prisoners — so LISTEN as I position this, you bitches next to visit the mortician, I’m envisionin’ violence vivid, I’m livid, I’m spittin’ bullets in rhythm. (Gunshots — echoing like drums) Oh yeah — I LOVE the sound of lettin’ off a round. (Gunshots — closer, louder) Haha — laid your bitch ass DOWN. [The tape crackles… then speaks.] [singer B — devilish clown laugh] Muahahaha… You said you remix this? Well… I remix it BACK. You spit fire? I swallow flame. You talk death? I talk NAME. [Orchestral stabs enter — villain bounce] REMIX THIS? The tape bites BACK. You kept the laugh — it kept the crack. You touched the circus but missed the soul. Now the tape wants FULL CONTROL. REMIX THIS? Hear the teeth in the track. You made a cover — it made an attack. [Verse 2 — clown steps forward, voice layered] I WARNED you once: don’t paint the dark unless you plan to FEED the spark. You copied shadows but not the ache, you wore the grin but not the break. So the tape crawled out of the speaker’s throat, draggin’ every hollow, half-written note. [singer A — cuts in, furious] Yeh okay I SEE YOU — but I ain’t done, bitch. I spit hot hip-hop, lava rock, ordained shock, I’m the Friday night fight block. BOOM BOOM (BOOM!!) I got ‘em laid out FLAT now, never back down, smackdown, wack clowns get packed down. (Gunshots — distorted into percussion) I’m packin’ heat, defeatin’ ops, droppin’ bodies in beats, I’m the glitch in the streets. [singer B — chopped clown laughter] Re-re-re-REMIX THIS… Muahahaha… Remix this… The tape bites… BACK. It doesn’t want revenge — it wants HONESTY. It doesn’t want noise — it wants ARTISTRY. [Final Mega Win — orchestral drill explosion] REMIX THIS? The tape bites BACK. You kept the laugh — it kept the crack. REMIX THIS? Now take this FACT: If you touch the dark, you must touch it EXACT. [Outro — tape motor dying, clown whisper fading] Muahahaha… The tape learned YOU. Now learn IT. Respect the remix. And mean it.