For underground metaphors
 
 You can scrape an inch below the turf, for what it's worth
 
 My style's been developed in the core of the Earth
 
 The exhale's volcanic, the inhale is seismic
 
 So brothers just panic when he Live one arrives with
 
 The natural ability to run through your crew
 
 From 2-1-4 to 2-1-3 to 2-1-2
 
 In other words, from Dallas, to L.A., to the place where J stay
 
 Everyday is mayday
 
  
  So you can talk your trash on how you're wettin MC's
 
 with mad blood stains but I'll bet you can't stand the rain
 
 I look upon your brain with disdain
 
 Go back and reflect on my endeavors black I can't complain
 
 It's like a raw deal, consistant with the way I make you feel
 
 The ends stay revealed while the means I conceal
 
 And those who try to steal get decapitated
 
 You wanna snatch my H2O type flow, but it evaporated
 
 I displays my credentials over instrumentals
 
 And my potential, increases at a rate that's exponential
 
 It's detremental questionin my thesis
  
 
 The penetration's exact, like amniocentesis
 
 I rip your rhyme to pieces after drainin out your fluid
 
 My vocab is fluent yours is evident of being truant
 
 I know you wanna make moves but son you best to take a second look
 
 Before my knight takes your rook
  
 
 Chorus:
  
 
 Cause everybody's rappin, and only few can flow
 
 So why the hell they tryin to deal with Live I don't know
 
 I handle true MC's on their block or at their show
 
 So if you come with bull kid, keep it on the low
 
 Cause yo, I got the hairsplittin, self-written unbitten style
 
 that leaves the competition running scared and shakin in their pants
  
 
 You best to set it off cause black it aint no second chance
 
 once I'm open, all you doin is hopin that the Live one
 
 will put the mic down, but son don't try to snatch it after
 
 The laughter won't cease from the comparison, how dare you son
 
 Step around the booth when I'm on
 
 The microphone magician says poof, you're gone with the wind
 
 There's no trace of your friends cause you don't know where the
 
 beginning ends or where the end begins
 
 But you see that's the difference, you get sold, I get paid
 
 Black I told you, get paid
 
 If you're broke I'll have to rain on your parade
 
 You belong in Special Ed if you think you Got It Made
 
 J-Live with the mic is like the chef with the blade
 
 Cause suckers get sliced and sauteed
 
 Yeah, you thought your joint was fly but the flight was delayed
  
 
 because
  
 
 Chorus: repeat 2X
  
 
 Cause yo, I take the grey matter of pretenders
 
 through my mental blender, and then return to sender
 
 My pen don't pretend to offend
 
 I intend to render MC's, hangin loose like a fender bender
  
  
 
 I recommend regardless of your gender
 
 That you strike messin with J-Live from your agenda
 
 And remember that whoever lends a helpin hand to defend ya
 
 Will get burned to a cinder
 
 As I end the, reign of wack MC's with their suicidal tendencies
 
 Renderin me sick, with the thoughts of killin enemies
 
 But then I return to reality
 
 Metaphorically murderin MC's when they battle me
 
 You can't rattle me
 
 I'm not your average snake slitherin through the grass
 
 I surpass the serpent as I head to class
 
 You consider me crass as I wax that ass; style's no joke
 
 but you best belive I gets the last laugh