Friday, May 16, 2014
Fuck the adhesive, I've been ridiculous, cousin. So shit, you can 'stick' to assumptions. Stick my dick in a F15 passage way, before it lifts off from launch base, so the missile won't function...
F'real.... official with Steele... like I worked in a mill...
verses appeal to all ages, got that personal feel.
Ha... like, "I heard he conceals..." not likely, I just rap.
with this Mic intact. Nope. Nevermind. I'm just typing that.
Nitrous, and a box of TNT - so go light a match.
Fire tracks from inside the ash, my drive doesn't require gas.
Nor OnStar... trust me, road side assistance is nothing...
And I'm brainless, like my fucking mind's missing or something.
Who's got their back? when they're in a position of FRONTING?
Fuck the adhesive, I've been ridiculous, cousin.
So shit, you can 'stick' to assumptions.
Stick my dick in a F15 passage way, before it
lifts off from launch base, so the missile won't function...
"Yo, the fuck, man?" I'm nuts. Monocle there.
It was a cat-walk for Celph Taut to model the tier...
I'm calling camaraderie on a lot of you queers
Under the influence, got a high blood alcohol content that's not over beers..HANHHH!???
Like the Ying Yang Twins, but I'm not whispering to you...
I'm Charles Lee Ray with a fucking doll in my hand, envisioning voodoo!
Listening to that Detroit Michigan dude, that's sick with his music...
But I bang to the beat of my own drum - both my fists are acoustics!
Yup. Sorry for the delay.
But I'm the Prodigal son.
The fallen comets of one astronomical cunt (That's me)
You want drama, you punk?
Yeah... didn't think so. Think fast, so I drink slow
With continuous pressure, that kitchen sink flow.
Just, letting my ink go... Irv Gotti....
these words probably hit a nerve. Got me exactly what I deserved - BODIES.
I'm not a role model, hell... not even looked up to.
The stuff that I do? Is under the influence of a couple of brews.
But fuck it, that's just another excuse.
Stick my tongue out at rappers like, "Grow a pair"
I laced the spot, but you can't run in my shoes...
And if you didn't catch that, those were metaphors on sneaker ware.
Go read it again, n' see that C can M-"C" with this Pen...
--cill in his hand... Mr. Syllable Man.
Scribbling... and... just... being Militant.
a killer who ran his course with Tyrannic force.
Lower torso - both hands divorced.
Damn, I wanna go out on a limb and say I have no plans on trashing this corpse...
Unless, you ask me. Of course.
Then, everything's completely different.
Heart's icy cold, like my fucking artery's heat resistant.
Got no leg to stand on; I'll rap knee-deep in this shit.
Crazy enough to ransack a Rich man and beat him 'cents less'
Hence this... bravado I wear, like Johnny Bravo was here..
Jizz on your mama n' smear my liquid children on her brassiere...!!!!
YUCK. Now do me a favor? And not tell your kids...
Got a hellish wit...the Devil's just a jealous prick!!!