Paw Print On The Cedar Box
We lost a real one - twenty one field gun POPs endorse it.
- Fucked up and spilled milk - a la clockwork orange
Originally caught her in the street,
like pickpockets do,
adopted her as family and found her cut game like slick doctor moves.
Iron chins for the force that hits through evictions and notices
- couch surfin - shit was just homelessness.
Riddled emotionless until I just wrote this shit
......depicting a torn homage against the sinister hoax I've lived.
We'd gift the streets with our tracks.. but never hit the beach with a splash.
Grievances; Daps;
Pimps: sip ya lean and then dance -
I was that dude, she was my cat; hittin' trees we relaxed
- by fifteen and a half she had to have smoked weed in the packs.
Always in my hood, ride or die as them rounds would explode....
literally in my sweater while I was playing counter-strike: GO
Now all alone I boot up again to bust shots for the service.
Stop when I'm hurtin, down to reload; first thoughts are dispersin -
I would obfuscate verses and in turn people would postulate verbiage,
but all I'd need is her nudge to help me concentrate further.
Call it fate, word up, like professor plum and an accident happening.
I'm high per beliefs, speaking in hyperbole and maximum fantasy.
The green would spark up; my chiefin partner was kinda adamant, actually -
Had a threat have to be handled she sat on them bags for me.
Her ancient gifts can make Barney Stinson change his pimp plan;
the homies loved her, and the ladies thought she was my greatest wingman
Freedom adorn her - save her grin in a piece of the clovers
because she fought till the end and said peace as a soldier.
I can hear her scratching the beat like an evil composer -
while I snap and I weep facts I concede just to be a bit closer.
She'd be happy to see me rapping a thing - It's Ben I'm imagening
while I'm worse off than Klaus from umbrella academy.
they say it's raining cats and dogs...I say it's reigning cats, sans dogs,
whatever, just piss on the parade in my damn sandbox.