Letras
I'm a king with no rings, but we can box in one
I'm toxic, spun off the marksman epiglottis
Ex-robbers, vile toting, swinging totem pole
Cobra ax flow, niggas spinning jacks slow
Government remote control, my brain power
Rain shower, man and gods, what's the odds
Even if I'm wrong, I'm still right, get large
Seven Wise, hitman, hit squad, dip bars
In golden jars, I speak a sunshine flow
Stir a drumline slow, like gumbo
My music testifies, and if it's not 5 mics
It's at least ten dimes
Throw a rope up to God, maybe you'll climb this high
In the tree house, I'm tree'd out, speak about
Something, to think about a bleed out
Flee to my house, hold a tree to my mouth, inhale it's
Brain tsunami, hope your chain and all your property
Is enough to keep you, on top of the water
Shallow niggas sink deep, and there's sharks in the water
Who run the soundboards, from here to abroad
While y'all niggas sleep as if the Lord had called, uh
Pick up the phone it's ringing...
I hit the smoke stacker like my bitch is battered
Pipes shatter like pipe dreams, splatter ya gray matter
When things get rough, pull something from my sleeve
Longer than Joker gun, keep hope alively
With a smoking gun, I discipate a Crimson gate
Escape and scrape the fishscale straight, move the plate
High maneuvers, blue street pie for dinner
Considered a sinner, simmer my lines like roaches shimmer
Leftover bread winner, alive in dead winter
My verse is like coke binges and broke windows
Tank poems Donald Goines word flow
Lines the speed of javelins traveling to your ash urn
Wild life trife arachnids trapped in amber
Throwup razor blades like pregnant women woke up
The cloud is weed smoke, with the ozone I roll up
No one can shit on these schemes with pitiful means
Put you under hospital beams, inaudible scream
My possible scam, a sonogram of modern man
Harbor, G. Carver plans, why do we sit in stands?