[Lyric] Combustion Freestyle (Jazz)

[Verse 1]
It's like, yo
Never mind the credits
I'm rolling like Tina Turner
With this, more murder turned up
The bones are what keeps me burning
Yearning for her return
She should have never went so high up
The grounds have been retired now I'm living from the sky up
Prior to my desire to be called the Sofa Sire
I was heavily inspired by the ebony papaya
Hip Hop couldn't get much drier so I write a song
Shine some light upon fucking chucking fire bombs till I'm an I-o-con
Sick ass fuck, got pox
Lyricist, hot rocks
Might fuck up your snot box
Swinging like Floyd with the roids in him
Soiled denim when they felt my noise venom
Victim to my groin growing, damn her guts got poise in them
Steez, got my mojo back
Cold as a polar cap
Pole to your Polo cap to let you know your flows are wack
Still on my havoc habits mad rap stabbing ass grabbing shit
Avid, heavy rhyming like a sack of bricks
Mad? Eat a saggy dick
Half-witted with mad tits makes a bad mistress, but
The sickest night of all if you got cash with you
This is...Ja...mi....yo
[Verse 2]
Jazz "Mister make the bad bitches whisper"
Grab a nag by the whiskers
Drag, fag should've listened
Hashtag, post to twitter
Just to boast a little
Fuck the cat, jack the fiddle
Crack, that was accidental
Metal bat, bash your dental
This my niggas, that's the rental
That's your sister? She got mad talent ass potential
Now...fucking get the fucking...out my...pencil
(Yeah, that rhyme)