It’s Hip-hop | In tha Bloodline | And tha physical | Opaque
That gets off | From one line | Leave them critical | Poste Haste

Spit raw | Conduct mine | As interviews | and don’t take
Shit y’all | From punk guys | and bitter fools | wit closed rank

It’s my life and passion | Whut I live and breathe
Tha type of light and ration | Come as gifts from HE

To write the lines imaged | None of which concede
To likes of bad men | That want tha piff for mean

Or evil purposes | demons strike | Hell fire
A phoenix birth it is | seen as like | prevailed flyer

From beneath tha earth risen | believed to spike | unveiled wires
Qualms and quirks prevent | seeing sight | detailed higher

Imagining latter things | taken from your core
Or battling that in me | when faced wit tugs of war

Patterns in tha matter scream | mistakes from ones before
My outer beams to Saturn rings | its space that one explores

When moscato champagne Verdes pumpin, cuz now I'm 30 sumthing
Cuz its about showing ya buddy love, like Ms Perdys humpin
Relate, its give and take to date, in flirty functions
And whutever else apps and games equipped wit qwerty buttons
Curve ya toughness to tha excitement of Hilary Duff fans
Wit Duff cans, looking for Chuck Woolery love plans
Even if you don't want my body, and get Jiggy wit Puff man
Never giving up, live it up when its kill or be fucked fam
Figureatively butt spam, think pink sock as steamed cock
Exits a pleased broad wit a donkey punch equivilent to Steve Fox
Combined wit a he bot off tree lots until ya dream stops
And when you come to ya complete knot, u end in a defeat spot
Tha team swat bugs, taught us shoo fly quit bothering
Before I whoop yo ass cuz ya pops didn't and I didn't question his fathery
Choking off ya curly top, thus making you observe tha lost
And realized at conception you should dried up on a dirty sock

So outta courtesy won't ask, but purposely go pass
Tha perfect tree rolled fast, off purple we grown ass
Men, as we bend in a Mercury Topaz
While we hold flask that keep us dizzy, and certainly no jazz
No B's then tha bowl glass, strike 3 turkey bowl past
Punk bitch funky no Crass, plus we burning yo flag
Like we turned to go bad, but deeds come from yo dad
Omni cuz he knows that, its defeat to the unknown cats
Mo' raps of doe stacks, coke crack in whole packs
Phone taps, on 4 rats wit wit mo gats than those cats
In iraq get close capped, are those facts or poor spat
For your acts implore tact, and tha report is torn back
Absorb that, then store back, take discipline wit chore maps
Or of course that deploy mats to bring knocking to your door stat
From tha verbal Zorak, Al Gore mixed wit Borat
A live Lorax, with a thorax to cuddle without tha cologne or Axe