[Mr. J]

Born pigeon toed, the bedridden ghost
lymph nodes that practice a give & go.
post game pivotal, the insane criminal
lines that make your mix-tape trivial...
my pen gets me high fives from Mack 10
enough hype to get you psyched like back then...
back when the discman consumed batteries
when the cypher used to have confused gatherings...
look at these suckers, yea...in your dreams fucker
the gat called Champagne so Im a Cris Tucker...
enough brain to make the most ignant suffer.
you get smacked groupie, its the belligerent hustler
so deep in that girl she call me a long distant lover...
a long distance runner...that road well traveled
them legs & eggs have got themselves scrambled.
2 tears in a bucket, fuck it, its well handled...
enough relief hidden in hand like a gel capsule.
hell channeled through a nokia cell...baffled.
whats in store will leave them shelfed like I sell Cambells
getting them canned after sparking a whole health scandal.
well sampled...