the mic I ripped thus far I stomp on ya forehead Peel the top of your fucking face off like an orange And eat the carnage My God that sounds horrid, eating
in trouble [Mac] T-Shirts and white caprices, my Daddy used to call him Jonny I never thought the snake muthafuckas would be behind me They took a shot nearly blind me Eyes rolled like a zombie, my
big bullet hole [Brother Ali] Shoot through it as a union, with the best of my crew Bumpin melodys and memories too, my heads killin me, ohh Stomach empty, my
They call me lyrical...Jesus They call me lyrical...Jesus I'm only second to...Jesus I'm only lyrical...Jesus Now as I'm peeling myself down off of the
is the future To the ones who've done the wrong You'd better keep your eyes peeled, Hate never heals I'll be around - hammer and nail Kiss my hell, spill
plaintiffs. The robo-komodo promo Zen patience a-alike to this jittery drooling mess. Bitterly unruly on mud hugger alert, he usher dirt to the kick circus. Deflected labor ethic questions peeled
glide Some turn to Jesus and some turn to heroin Some turn to rambling round Looking for a clean sky and a drinking stream Some watch the paint peel
's not true The nice Christian lady told you so She was handing out pamphlets by the clinic door Saying, "Jesus knows what you've been through Take the savior into your heart, my
knew Look at my sister sadden when my baby's Mammy Like she can't stand me Say family be the first to turn so pity Annie Filamina, my Granny, celebrate
I wash it off with Coast Now I'll take my jelly and spread it on your toast No one rhymes faster, the mic is my blaster So grasp some Shasta, the mighty
got chains on your neck and the man's respect You'll work all damn day but you will never see a check in the field Cotton you yield, your skin peels
" I asked him "Was he sure" Shorty's "Mi Amore" This happened to me before, with my man Diadore- Over a Ki(lo) of raw- My nigga got killed, caps got peeled
We on some other ish, my goons will smother shit, from my Piru niggas down to them Eastside Crips. I thug like everyday's my last, ask Jesus, he never
, moliere Found jesus and siddhartha in a bar in djakarta Chatting where the air is quite rare Let solomon keep his philosopher's stone Let jove keep his heavens above To my
light bulbs burn Some ones in the stall Big white Brick wall Makes me feel small And I take my shirt off Looking for a glimpse of flesh I peel back the
just a candle and then my soul Cryptic messages written on the floor Rats are nibbling at my feet, I send one off to nevermore Too much darkness, spiders on my
blunted drinking cokey nine hundred Never fronting on my niggas on the battle zone Thoughts flip before they change your whips on the Good ship Jesus
is my dossier overnight, insight I write like six hundred thousand kilobytes Yes, I'm on one, European cars, Cuban cigars, rap stars Glass ceilings to the inevitable cap peeling