THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Mr. J]

peep how the stress feel when on your head...
real, the definition that describes my next deal
on the pad like a menstrual, my ink the red pill
my flow calms the pain that these so called meds kill..
the rest peeled off the top layer like an onion
them boys run in, snatch your bread get you snuffed n..
leave you stuffed in the trunk with the bass bumpin'..
no speakers involved, so the team won't snitch
the schemes won't quit until our dreams so thick..
you could float on a cloud bombing like a spiked turtle
the lies could kill you especially if the truth might hurt you
light purple haze & roll out the red carpet, blue smoke
RIP on the slab while I chunk up the duece yo...