| I know how you feel
|
| We all feel like that at times
|
| Only I warn you mademoiselle
|
| Do not allow evil into your heart
|
| It will make a home there
|
| Yo. |
| So I’m in the forest with a broke ankle
|
| While daughter bear pours porridge
|
| But I swear that it didn’t do shit for my hunger
|
| And so I’m still starvin', still pondering pot it is, carvin'. |
| Ballet slippers
|
| indented with more than real arches
|
| Mind’s eye shreikin' and sharper than six steel archin'
|
| And I related to him but I’m still the ville’s larvae
|
| Trapped in the wilderness call me Will Darkness
|
| Fortune got sanctioned by a curse that led me to believe
|
| That I’m eviler than the first match that classified
|
| The Devil’s rebellious army as Fallen and the
|
| Stone monsters is still callin' my name
|
| Print cursive and always spill margins
|
| It’s a shame that the tall shamans are still bawlin' from
|
| The bad critiques that they all got from the drill sergeants
|
| Figure so sleek his pockets could feel larger
|
| Than a 5 bar clan that’s mockin' the Ill’s armour
|
| No. No. No fuck that
|
| Not with it, hot meta jams just to talk
|
| Spittin' Ox with his prophetic plans
|
| At least in the Chinese Zodiac, flow so heavy
|
| Pickpocket it, it will throw you back out the window with the Narcotic in the
|
| forty sack, a quarter is like a quarterback
|
| He more hoes than the mustang wrench
|
| The swish been worked like a bloodstained branch
|
| World scream when I get hurt but the cut stays red
|
| Well if I bled that, pneumatic anatomy so it sheds black
|
| Yeti make-up, the veteran’s lace gut ruptures
|
| Rap faggots get mad hattin' for fake lustre
|
| Probably spit Busta as venom as a cliché
|
| And I wish bitch trip because her weed free
|
| Steve J, iPhone moments that he get replayed
|
| Mind is my mountain, is golum
|
| Donuts with weed glaze |