I play the low in, you definitely know,
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You probably never heard of me
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Got hands that never shake,
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It’s a steady hand surgery.
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Already been, it’s just courtesy,
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I’m the MC, didn’t mean it to not be MC.
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Living proceeded by the B8BU.
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Hey, you see, there ain’t no mother fucker take two.
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Mistakes, too, happen, and I ain’t afraid to keep ‘em living,
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A paddom with a little pain and leave ‘em with the smell of riffle.
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A palid move with a self receiver,
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Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can’t tell it’s even
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And I ain’t tell ‘em, either.
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I did tell them this, I guess I didn’t tell ‘em “give it”
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But did sell the cevets,
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Say it like I seem repetuous,
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I see them come and go, selling out biedous.
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I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing
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Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling
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Sell a feeling for the river of exposure,
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I’m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier.
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There’s just no gimmick to this closure,
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Just the image with the folk written over,
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Just the vision of the finished rhyme,
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I finish in a sense and I send them all within a sign.
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I’m sitting on a bench like it’s dinner time,
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Not meant to offence, getting my thing.
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-----------------
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Never Grow Up
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| The Alchemist |
