I play the low in, you definitely know,
You probably never heard of me
Got hands that never shake,
It’s a steady hand surgery.
Already been, it’s just courtesy,
I’m the MC, didn’t mean it to not be
MC. Living proceeded by the
B8BU. Hey, you see, there ain’t no mother ****** take two.
Mistakes, too, happen, and
I ain’t afraid to keep ‘em living,
A paddom with a little pain and leave ‘em with the smell of riffle.
A palid move with a self receiver,
Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can’t tell it’s even
And I ain’t tell ‘em, either.
I did tell them this,
I guess I didn’t tell ‘em “give it”
But did sell the cevets,
Say it like
I seem repetuous,
I see them come and go, selling out biedous.
I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing
Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling
Sell a feeling for the river of exposure,
I’m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier.
There’s just no gimmick to this closure,
Just the image with the folk written over,
Just the vision of the finished rhyme,
I finish in a sense and
I send them all within a sign.
I’m sitting on a bench like it’s dinner time,
Not meant to offence, getting my thing.