Monday, January 27, 2014

1/27/2014


Make my shit last like a photo graph.
From the hood. now I'm sittin' fat.
Any social caste, whether u got gold and cash,
or hitting on the crack;
Any lifestyle can hit the morass,
never know when the chrome'll blast.
Gotta keep ya room like a arsenal cache.
Maybach peelin' down the racetrack,
blowin' away a haystack.
The wraith's wrath.
I ain't naturally apt, like half of these cats.
but I want to become a master of my craft,
and wit that comes keepin ya mouf zipped up like a bag.
Still keep my rhymes pouring like a caraf,
keep my heads up like mawfuckin a giraffe..
Never forgotten epitaph.
Stay fly. Fishin like a bass.
Morning wheaties mashed.
Let the graffiti splash,
I wanna be a bohemian.
The beatnik beatin men,
not they teeth broken in;
... but the words I'm leaving em.
The hours spinnin like a turn style.
Turn my style to flower child.
Turn scowl to smile.
I'm sick of trying to out-beguile.
Let thunder showers thin right out.
Chameleon from crocodile.
A million lizards on the prowl,
so I'm stayin hidden now.

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