Spit it for gs hittin them trees allergic to your snitchen like you bitchen to sneeze switch and then breathe schoolin mother fuckers like I'm givin degrees in the wind like a breeze not knowin when do we leave I'll never bend at the knee with this pen I decree I'll be a best the rest will never see in my chest the crevice you dug out please I'm strung out about much as the that guitar my dad gave me so as I string you along let me sing you a song of six pence my sick sense u'll plea out of a bargain free at last have my bars been for you