deep in my roots, its about to get physical...
im just speaking the truth, its going down by the ticket oak
see, i eat wheaties with prunes til my bowels go in intervals
Z, dude, you reading the rules? bogus clowns get shitted on
fuck you, its sun tzu. gunning out the sun roof of my civic bro
ya front view, pumped thru. son you'll get killed wit subliminals
i tried to come smooth and stay chilled but these bullets cold
blaster beams splitting yo anatomy, so relax ya team spiritual
it's travesties in general and it's all happening, happily in digital
catastrophes' on behalf of crafty me, makes this tragedy pitiful
im a master b, actually, master p, amassing keys w/ no limit tho
swagging wit ya faculty splattered on my graphic tee, fixing dope
you faggot weak, fashion week, rapping sweet in bitches clothes
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get high. write rhymes.
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