The Reason You're Wack

[CopyPat]

November, it's minus 3. Degrees chillin, when I rhyme a free. Mc's shiverin' every time I speak cause each sentence is designed to freeze. Ya mind deceased if ya think you compete. Which means brain dead to you simpleton geeks. I see jpegs when I picture the beat and just repaint them with my digital speech. At least eight tenths of the dentists agree ya catch a teeth ache when it's a bitten of me. But Brother man please stop before ya talk absurd n dispute, cause I understand teeths not the proper plural of tooth. I run a damn detox hockin verbals at dudes, cause my stuff is mad clean ya'll rockin words that's uncouth-that's a clever word for vulgar for cat's who never heard it altered-But I ain't talkin bout the jewish dork, and I'm not about to use fedoras. I'm just rockin out my huge assortment of words that's hardly often used before. I'm hauling off a huge cigar that was probably bought in Cuban stores, the quality stock is true to form cause it always be locked in humidors. Apologies ya'll I'm super sorry, that part of this jot wasn't too important. But it's a part of my job to you the boarder to draw in your thoughts and view the story. I'm constantly gone I do exploring to get lost in the sound of new recordings. My jollies be off for music yours be always involved with using porn, see it's not even that that's got me vexed, but it's why you'll always be wack when dropping texts.