This is an Emergency broadcast to all underground rappers who'd rather anger each other, who'd rather do drugs to get they flows on the rows, so we gonna show you what we chose, and we gonna blow our drug free lyrical smoke in your stuck up nose, fo sho's we gonna tout, you ready route?

This is an Emergency broadcast, wishes are our urgency's past, last men standing and we'll keep demanding respect for repping a reputation that's tough enough, without the drugs, the thugs, with out you punks, hiding guns, our ammo's at our thumbs, the ones that write lyrical slugs, into your face, you're a disgrace, if you thinking you gonna judge us on our race, punk this outer space, we're the death star, you're quite wrong, done gonna run you up,like alderawn


Taken for granted since day I came to the planet
Picked up bad habits with a bottle and ham sandwich

Getting laughed in the face makes a mind draw blanks
Rappers like me been known to disappear without a trace
We don't lose our hope, just our ability to cope

Hard to make friends when you wanna slit their throats
But the music doesn't judge and the music doesn't yell
Hi the name is Route 7, have I been sent to hell?


You better run?brotha-hata, run brotha-hata, run, run, run, I don't need no gun?to try make you lose some blood
While you be poppin da pills, we be paying da bills,

while ya girl gives ya thrills, we'd be giving her chills,
artificial a- real, we Official appeal ,
we give her the squeal, so yes we will steal

Your female lover, or any sig-ni-fi-cant other, as long as it breeds, we believe we can jump her
Too late to call me us your brothers, we just effed over your mother
You see twasn't really that hard, for us to rhyme at your level, it's like leading a bar, full of drunkies and junkies that all are, as pathetically funny as you, speaking of bars, we must've rapped 22, feeling the fear young pada-punk?, yessss ,it's the truth,

and I said Ima stop at 22, but screw that, ima go to 25, you can't deny that I'm that guy that makes you cry when you buy,
all my gamble trays, the dealer stays, the cards array, today you'll pay, and they say,
ima put your fake

2pac way all away.
Get your story straight, exactly which songs of mine are Eminem's? Since, you can't provide the proof, I $$#ume you wear depends