[Mr. J]

someone better call that in with all that gin.
I spat, I saw, & split, Im where the flying saucer is.
sauced as shit...these 2 cents will get ya barber clipped
take the watcher with the heart of the anonymous
I spit thoughts with risk & sprinkle it with positiveness
I sport under armor & toast to where the llamas is...
stop it where the comma sits & think about all that gin
you call that sick? my hangover is like a ball & twig
a yarn I twist when I try to walk the dog and slip...
see the cat? see the cradle? I hang with some cool tricks
you know what the rule is, bang away until its useless
day to day it aint gon change until you use the pool stick
8 balls & cues with reasons why you choose that last pocket
the one in wait...a past object floating in the vast darkness
like when vans parked & I broke a dime down, a damn artist
old school weed pipes whenever I had them cans sparking.
staring at the jewel in the sky & breaking down society.
the silence & giggles tell me that most of you sound high to me
you should be in the background suckling down on ivory.
theres a new private dick with a badge & very subtle irony
I crush hymens G, you suspects could use the variety...
hide behind masks & talk about how the whole concept of life is hard
rhyming bars about how emotions that run high make you cry & call
I got high & coughed on a pair of my new ironed socks...
theres a leech in the winter that likes to eat in the river,,,
how unique of beginners who sing like the geese in the middle
youd get the point if you followed me there, a wallabys hair
I got spunky on these heffers & laughed about it due to my big head
I passed a trig test by putting a shot through their big heads...
if you feeling froggy...leap, call that dude...Mr Bighead...
I stand on a soapbox & post shots of myself in the post...shot...
the hook of legends, the fake & power of the whole lot.
putting them cobras into a broke jaw, just before I got my coat off...
shots thunder on an old block, I send a wish to an old star.
I send a body to the earth where the asteroid had broke apart
split into fragments & scattered across a freshly mowed lawn
a negative proton that is charged to the point I get my rogue on...
with a touch Im killing them thats whats up in the ceiling brah
my chores are boring & plus I think sweepings hard...
at least thats what I heard from geek from Mars...
or was it Saturn...I dont think it matters then....
bring the moist toilette & wipe their ass & flatter them
thats how you earn some advice wherever the banter ends
got a delivery that allowed them to bring that Panda.......in...