Too many rappers, not enough fans//
Born in the bay but I don't talk about vans//
My music has substance//
The public needs and it wants this//
These emcees cds is tragic//
I treat they mixtape like morning traffic//
Sit through it cuz I have to//
Then I get to work, I'm the shit, where's the bathroom//
Only paper you touching is confetti//
You and beats is like cheesecake and spaghetti//
Which means its all wrong//
Like drinking the water from a bong//
I don't make songs, I spit psalms//
Its over, where's the asian man with the gong//
Sidenote, when I squeeze that trigga//
Its similar to flicking the off switch on a nigga//
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment