the gravel pit is swarming with killer bees,
enter chamber 16:
ol' dirty bastards tryin ta fuck with my jigga jigga GENIUS,always forgetting im on point like the end of a switchblade swiss army scissor
razor sharp with words and adverbs,you can smell me cookin up some marveolus chef shit in the mournin
mention im on the ghostface tip,on some now you see me now you dont buisness,
inevitably some wigs will get split,
and yoU-GOD must be crazy
,because word is bond,and the inspektah has been in the cut for a minute lately
making this prison experience a vicious act of terrorisim,worst then a half hour of chelsea daily when the remotes missin.
bitin styles like a con artist in the great depression,least to remember that the kids apart of a dream team of all stars with visions of C.R.E.A.M singin cant it be so simple,in the rain storms of downsouth bethel park PGH,PA.
breathin out so much sessamilly the children of the corn would think diffrently about being creepy
because knots put tons of kids to sleep on these neon warmed streets in winter
boiler makers and menthol cigarettes keep this blood warmed,and the faygo smell on my clothes sends loves to the juggalos who I used to run around with back home. best buds in town those clowns pushed,they did
now I spend my time with the GDF.takin kids so far out they drop off the deep end
speechs begin after jugs of wine and drugs are done,
N64 is on lock down when I have the Golden Gun,
now im comfortabley spun
eating little debbies crumbs off my pajama bottoms
the shirts gone...lost to the laundry...