[Lindel]

LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE

[New Jessica Alba Sig / Jessica Alba / J.Alba Quick Thing]

Oh, the poor Gal Was Great Til Ye 'Shopped Away!! Stop- don't push Out A Tape & Collage Ya Name!!..
'cause Rapping Lame as your Graphics K? either way you won't drop an "Alba Making 'em Want To Bang"!!

[Nas Sig / Quick Biggie Smalls Signature]

Hey!

Jim Glockz Is Pretty Clean!! study his GFX before Pics Crop n' Sigs Drop which Diss Nas & Biggie Please!!
If Not? we'll see Ribs Popped With Sini's Teeth "tearing Kar' heart apart" like Rick Ross In Skinny Jeans!!-

'til we see "Car'cass & bone", like he Decided To Lose His Virginity!! ALAS. Vagina Refuses Him Instantly!!
such a Bitch- If We ask K Why you ain't in pussy? he'll reply, "False" while Applying A Lubricant Literally!!

Due to "irrelevant set-ups + schemes": any K Flip Or Punch Is A Downer & Clips're Bust At Him Outward!!
I'm gassin on Kar 'cause a Shell Gets 'Em Pumped- as the man decides to "Fill Err Up Within Counters"!!

[Filler Up With Encounters]

Arteries Stop As Fangs Sink In K Deep- 'til this "fruit Kar Been Ate" like Sparkling Squash & Grape Drinks!!
Start Wiki On This Page Link & They've Seen- the only Place We, can find that Kar Niggie's Topping J.P!!

Bye

Vs.

midnight iron, snaking out like specters fingers, then melting in the mist
i would like to think their odyssey is over, and that they welcome the abyss
as tender as a kiss, these shingles and their watermarks - they speak to me
almost secretly ... a hundred years gone, a hundred years of grief to be
and what unsung tales have these puffs of brisk-departing smoke imbibed?
what many stories could be told and why - do open eyes behold them - blind?
those ochre tiles, tanned to character-perfection, by nervous cigarettes
scratches, dirt and hints of sweat; the signatures of phantoms, in swirls and pirouettes.
a beggars nose gulps coffee steam - snobbily, from her sumptuous throne of trash
no gumption's prone to last, but no one thought to tell Her Majesty; she couldn't stoke the ash
i guess it's a macabre song, this with such a gulfing jaw, that challenges one
to turn one's back on the Sun ... then chase the wheels of a pram as it tractors along
or amass with the throng - no better coat than the Rorschach smudge of busy strangers
no distance greater; backwards, forward, backwards, forward; forward with the width of vapor
i watch the tired carriages, shrugging along their shouldered clouds of people
eighty tons of frozen faces, homeless-nameless ... and I can't see one ounce of evil
i think, maybe, they're just like me ... you know? - trying to unravel truth
about life, about death - but ... what the Hell do I know ...? I'm merely passing through