yake ur time nigga... its da same
anyway imma spit now



Imma start spitting with the usual quirkiness of spit with quickness and showing illness with verbal distortion//
Ull die b4 the beginning and we wont even hear u screamin… diz is like “hurried doctors on quick abortions”//
me without “ta-lent” is like 50 without ”Da-cent”… u don’t see thingz like that even in ur favorite soap opera//
im mixing vocab that’ll make u hallucinate & flow that u feel when u concentrate… like writing on a doper-lab //
the only thing that I kno bout u is that ur “self-claimed” prophet while I bring apocalyptic rhymes ending up ur daily routine//
the way im devouring you with fast thoughts and and making “-useless-brain-areas” mutilations -- Imma call this a “new-sin”//
u have less chances to survive than anorexic-Africans in the middle of 89 bigger notified drought//
like Smith&Wesson shots just with one simple sample u know what im all about//
imma glue this lyrics to ur ass to make sure u hear em cuz it seems like u got shit in ur brains//
my verse conformed a s real “visible” win like if I were talking about Colorado east plains//