Из альбома: Alcohol/ism
Ah, so hum, let me see... Very interesting, I see your hobbies are drinking, smoking weed and all types of ill shit.
Yo bust this, I spit from the love in my heart, and trust this, they spits'll be up on the charts.
So when it's time for the rumble to start my subtle remarks get up in your head and make you crumble appart.
I spit a couple of balls then MCs disappear, one rhyme is worth more than what you gross in a fiscal year.
My fist appears after two sips of beer and a 50 Smirnoff, guaranteed to knock your lips and hands off.
I took a placement test after two years of a school on a (?) and scored as a space cadet.
I break cassettes lyrical face of death shout-out deal I ain't payed yet to a raster death.
Blazing ain't the cess 'cause I got it for free, now every dealer on my block is like "You're not copping from me!"
My pops dropped in the sea like garbage man, dropping debris now pro life (?) has got a problem with me.
With no diapers I'm shitting on the hottest MCs, I'm like a ghost writer, a player who's not in the league.
And consequently, that means I'm over top of the trees, and watching from a chopper like the condom police.
Approximately, too hot for some block number 3, with doubt my dick in major bitch dropped to a niece.
Got it on lock with a key, it's Logic and me, we spit the real hip-hop, not what you watch on TV.
I spend a long time drinking, a short time thinking, I'm just a short step from my life-line shrinking.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.
I spend a day or two puffed-up, a day as a drunk fuck, waiting for the day he ain't waking the fuck up.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.
I'm a proud scrub and admittedly, my favorite cheat's waving a chicks from the cockpitt of my man's infinity.
My holy trinity is beer sex and smokes, my Holy book contains humourous anecdotes and sexist jokes.
A pure pervert who's more covert than CIA, spitting prescription forms so you'll see it my way.
I sleep in the day, wake-up got weed on the way, put the bid and press play I need a reason to stay.
I write scriptures, developped in the dark light pictures, I type vicious you bitches know who's my guesses.
Yeah I got a slight sickness for chicks in tight breaches, and swimming in 'em like vicious,
So if they wish to seeing pictures of themselves on my next whack turn-a-pressing (?) plan,
They should get their chest enhanced or pressed in plants.
I'm having sex with tramps in Guess jeans pants, popped the freshest plants now my ex is mad.
'Cause I step to 'em like "Can I get this dance ?", off to the mistress some lives (?) be stressed with cramps.
I'm the best in the camp, Jason from crystal lake, with a twist of fade, I don't flow I precipitate.
And I initiate, and also [?], and watch you while you stuff the poison pasta in your face.
Taste the botulism, this graceful communism, we'll come and do your beer and take the pot you piss in.
I spend a long time drinking, a short time thinking, I'm just a short step from my life-line shrinking.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.
I spend a day or two puffed-up, a day as a drunk fuck, waiting for the day he ain't waking the fuck up.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.
I spend a long time drinking, a short time thinking, I'm just a short step from my life-line shrinking.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.
I spend a day or two puffed-up, a day as a drunk fuck, waiting for the day he ain't waking the fuck up.
That's why it ain't much I won't say in a song, because I started dying on the day I was born.