Stacking peppels for X pull of leathers,
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Back burn bitches raffle feathers, let ‘em get us,
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He ain’t one in many way, that’s the game playing
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Switch them up and bust some eldy, that’t my main man.
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Move figurous, sharp smooth scissor is,
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Sipping on the V side up, smooth privilege,
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Q new nellience, see through fake images.
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I do this swinging shit, my progress’ limitless
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Incinerate dreams just by living,
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That’s the motherfucking trophy, everyday is Thanks Giving.
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Skunks drifting quite often in my rhyme,
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Got a good girl on my hood, keep the bad ones on the side.
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Stuck in my ways, hustling for days,
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Don’t give a fuck about the world that’s stock shocking grenades.
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I’ve got bags under my eyes keep ‘em tucked under shades,
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Those shames of brand names keep in stuck in the days
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So it’s my way.
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-----------------
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Crushed Kremlin
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| The Alchemist |
