decay I'll shoot your lens, my cape, two dicks, I got two twins Cause I'm moving on, it's busy, bitches, don't be talking Nothing to my face, I'm on the pull up, ready, get it, get sprayed * that, got
. You and I in that Wraith, retire my pimp super-fly cape. Just my Mets cap and my badge and I'm straight. Esco. Don't question it. You ain't gotta question it. You already know the answer. The truth
layer (psssssssh). My rap style's warped, I'm runnin out the morgue. witcha dead grandmother's corpse to throw it on your porch. Jumped in a Chickenhawk cartoon wit a cape on. And beat up Foghorn Leghorn
five days straight. I went into a restaurant. Lookin' for the cook. I told them I was the editor. Of a famous etiquette book. The waitress he was handsome. He wore a powder blue cape. I ordered some
?. Of course. What kind of sauce(?) did I take?. Make my donut Jelly. And my coffee Sanka. We sat. Unhooked the cape from the back. She felt my arms. 'Cause my pythons looked stacked. 'Goddamn
Abstract poet incognito, runs the cape. Not the best not the worst and occasionally I curse to get my. Point across, so bust, the floss. As I go in between, the grit and the dirt Listen to the mission