[Mr. J]

I guess I'm leanin' now, like a good joke in syrup
or like my elbow, pullin' up, hood spoke when the leers up
The tilt in my picture, reflection the same as my brim does
Hiding the thought but exposing the voice that puts limbs up
plants seeds, til' Springs up, see what the offspring does
Yao Ming dunks, even at this height I'll still fuck things up
At this rate I'm just doing what I feel, with a Midas ring touch
turning the followers into a Goldfinger sculture, not shaken
stirred word for word in my alphabet soup as I hot plate it
Hot statements, tossed bacon, raw hatred for the pigs
Moreso for the risk its given my heart to continue to live
a menu as crisp as a vegetarian on the club scene
does it make sense? Only if you are hungry..