Sunday, August 7, 2011

Bunny To A Rabbit

Listen to track

[Verse 1]
Just a glass, and I’m touchin’ ass so fast, that a blush and a laugh, isn’t a rush;
I just pass the dutch and puff, master of cuttin’ up, lastin’ for weeks, when fastin’ on freaks, I’m a bastard.
You probably thought I meant a body argument, I move fast on a freak, like, “Let me smash.”, and just leave.
Apology? Probably not, cause I just got a-
I mean, I just wanna be like a game I just copped.
I say so much stuff, that the day just stopped.
24 hours in a day, and the buck stops today, so…
Let’s divide. What’s ours, and what’s mine; Like rush hour time? My traffic is just passing slow.
Glass of the Jack and Coke, mad hope, but like the straw in the glass, I just float.
… PAAAssing up smoke, to focus on what’s passed.
Catch up to such, to show I have what you know.
… Focus. Hocus pocus, it’s magic when I flow.
That is so radical, ?menIcatspasmghosts?
Shadow to most, but dammit, I’m so attractive, that ghosts grab on the back of my coat like I asked them.
Captain of the boat, drafted to promote NASA, blastin’ home in a rapture, to have a glass of Jack and…
… Indulge in a sinner’s heaven.
14 in addition to 7 to get the message.

(Be a man for once in my life… Once in my life… Once in my life…)
(Be a man for more than a night… More than a night… More than a night…)
(I got alotta’ growin’ up to do…)
(I got alotta’ growin’ up to do…)

[Verse 2]
My peers are amazed. The light said years in the game, and nightmare to stares in the plains.
Runnin’ crop circles around blocks, where they cop purple pot and herb; Who’s not “herbally” shocked?
Murder on the curb isn’t a lot. Nervous or not, my stock serves with every tock of the verbal clock.
My thermal hopscotch with word, ?perfectly jots?.
My words paint pictures, I don’t “word play” with cha‘.

Girls get ?played, to lay n1ggas in this world?.
Gangstas are the biggest girls in the world. Get it n1ggas?
Haters don’t even affect me, I consider them public hair stubble; They struggle with truth or dare.
Spin the bottle, I’m sippin’, while women waddle, and kiss on the model n1gga, who didn’t get followed as “Mr. Acknowledge Me On The Scriptures”, or get thrown out of the mix, like a file gettin’ snipped from Pro Tools.

That’s wildin’? I figure. I go through, like hollow point shells, I’m full of substance, and I’m coddled when my voice yells.
Win and lose, I’m the same in interviews; Name is in the news.
Pained, from getting hit by a loser.
The shoes fits? Then I’m Finkel and Einhorn, the “ace” of this state.
Far from takin’ up space. I’m GREAT.

[Chorus] x1.5

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