your disinformation you know less than i've forgotten about mind manipulation yeah this town was born with lies so was i so were my brothers and
recycled sin that i'm seeping onto the street i've got a right mind and two left feet with my untimely, timid staggered stance my nerve-wracked,
Well you broke all of my mirrors but i sure as hell can smoke and it's all i've got to prove this isn't just an inside joke we've rhymed and reasoned
My future depends on this throwback rhythm my past depends on me telling tall tales of living what i've yet to live and what i'll never see i can
point b to point a blind to every exit sign pointing towards the right way hitchhiked myself into the driver's seat of my bodily rusted machine
it's all split milk to me Desire to dance, too startled to try Wrap my legs 'round you, starting to fly Let's soar Up there, up there, up there on the
the strength and you the weak link in the click It's obvious you pussy I could see the pink in the clit I seen the chip and my clip of my daily desert
mush Now my bitch dancer, I'm bout as sick as cancer If you could swallow my style, you probably rip ya pants off If you could bottle my style and sell
-i-cat-ed But, nigga, if you want war with me, besta be 'bout your issue Hit your set with.. my nigga with them things ta split cha Picture a lil' nigga
Fredro] You wanna bang nigga bang, fucking bang your set Wanna play gun rap, I'll arrange ya death My tech disconnect Arms, legs, necks from chest Shots split
cura Holy Koran, sirah, leaves man to understand I stand up as rough briva Heart is bleedin', stress got my hair line receedin' God look, we feedin', leadin' my
slurring my speech Hearin silent screams at night, disturbing my sleep Burnin my weed, the smallest thug caught a bug War stories on the bench till y'
fly so what my etiquette's pathetic and shit you can steady get hit, dead on your lip your head'll get split, to the point you need a medical trip
my bitch dancer, I'm bout as sick as cancer If you could swallow my style, you probably rip ya pants off If you could bottle my style and sell it to somebody
Koran, sirah, leaves man to understand, I stand up as rough briva Heart is bleedin', stress got my hair line receedin' God look we feedin', leadin' my
