| Fools behind my back talking shit
|
| About myself, my crew
|
| They do it in private, do it in public
|
| For their fans, in front of their friends
|
| Yet never bring it my pad
|
| It 1520 1st ave. |
| Oakland apt. |
| 1
|
| Stop by and get your careers over with already
|
| You can demean us and call us elitist
|
| How sheepish
|
| So be it
|
| Ease-ed
|
| Defeatist short leaded ideas
|
| Eat it
|
| I do and bleed it
|
| Black out as heart heated reason
|
| On a Jel beat and
|
| Ya beefin' I’m over achieving
|
| In you dis-believing meaning
|
| Even knows that your breathing
|
| Conceit is a beach
|
| Ya -uckin with deep end
|
| Stepping to me and my L.L.C and
|
| You can get
|
| Count with the sheep and caught
|
| Over cousin death seeking
|
| 2-D in uneven speaking weakened
|
| Heathens you’re over sleeping
|
| In this world you can never get what’s owed
|
| And I ain’t never took a thing
|
| That I ain’t rightfully stole
|
| To meet ends
|
| I eat friends
|
| And do rent
|
| Only thing I regret’s to whom I am in debt
|
| So we stepped star to the clay
|
| Before it had readied our day
|
| On the sun
|
| And that’s done
|
| Like hope guns
|
| For those who waxwing beside it
|
| So is it every man for his island?
|
| Or every hour glass to its sand?
|
| Fuck that we taking hands
|
| In this two man band
|
| Kill in the name of the ant
|
| And we ride to die giving
|
| In the kingdom of can’t
|
| Ain’t a damn thing white or book-light about this
|
| I will take your name
|
| You call my passion your game
|
| You fools fall I’m aimed
|
| These lamb like lions can get tamed
|
| And Im’a set whip on you when I see you
|
| Service concrete
|
| Green room or street
|
| Defeat’ll come for your weak
|
| I’m a cure your sleep…
|
| No. You can’t have the hook
|
| It’s for your face, you gape
|
| We can battle for names, see who becomes who
|
| Except you don’t own yours
|
| So you can’t play
|
| You ain’t no gangster, you sleep too much
|
| And all these fools calling me a faggot when they on all the dick
|
| Just another F word for the weakest in the herd
|
| And I will wolf you!
|
| When did rap proper
|
| Go all just jester and death vessel
|
| The emptiness equivalent of rock gone hair-metal
|
| Do you wear medals
|
| Or do they wear you
|
| Like all shells will do
|
| There was a plank and I leapt
|
| Off Into the debt
|
| Of an over due set
|
| Of decades and chest
|
| Of a hound in the wound and the wet
|
| In the down of your drowned to lament
|
| Crowned in the sound of you spent
|
| When not bent
|
| Like a spear in the side of a star
|
| In the brights
|
| Of your small fear
|
| And whites of your are
|
| And bad ear gave in awe & all
|
| To the tongues of the young and incurable
|
| A Something to never numb in the blur of a durable apathy aired era
|
| Actually
|
| My words ring right and exact
|
| Over the mirror in fact
|
| Where what’s will and flesh laps
|
| See also: How kill leaves trap
|
| With respect or its head broke at the mercy of bread their big red spread
|
| across the professed and the pled
|
| And none-Luck of the undead
|
| I ain’t fuckin with bed
|
| This here’s an organ of edge
|
| And what are you OVERSLEPT? |