It’s best you let me wander or I’ll taunt
Ya with my brain
I’m the editor in chief
The leaf a rap a dope shit antique
Rope kits for the hang time a
Heinous crime
‘Cause I drain his mind. Open it up
Oh…not
The same as mine not the same ass
Rhyme
Nickel plated statements with nickel
Plated
Knuckle faded faces. No matter what
The Race is I hope ya cockpit got shit
I stock
Hits. Inventory glorious. I owe me this
I’m on my homies shit — the homeless
Shown
This skill is real when I attack from
The
Back I’ll say a rhyme then pull your
Spinal
Cord from your torso, more so or
Better
Yet more or less it’s not an option
I’m coppin’
A plea seizing a shop and hopin’ a
Cop’s
A blow of the past. If not, I’ll be
Blowin’
His ass away. J. Groove is on the cross, I’m
The heavyweight fader of a playa
Hayta
Analysis is deep, forever on the peep
And I’m
The best, the crest of the ho shit…
Yeah,
You can’t manifest destiny unless it’s
Me
Oh, you don’t approve of my moves
But I’m not
Starvin’ for jargon, so save it.
My libido is
The needle to the wax, I like to tax in
Gazebos, surviving like a mac king,
Clever
Never lacking when I’m stacking
Endeavors
I try and try to tell fools, that I’ve been
Through hell and my tools ain’t the same
As yours. Coors Light that’s what
They’re
Drinkin’, must be I’m wrong yours is