if you want intuition I can give you intuition led to you tripping a lyrical felt scripture to never be rips her proper lip hurts to stand upright you want to see a Galaxy revolutionary world spending hold the gravity with the knee weight down all shoulder on ankles with cupcake sprinkles no I'm just clowning let's get back to the real facts look of a finger to turn the page in the time race of future glimpse of no better days to slow it down dig deep in the soul grab a mother fucking pencil take the less sprinkle it instead of loose breath from lung to cut none left what caught no breath shirt no chest rambling words that don't make no sense give you a story to tell to Rita well however you wish Rita letter in this supplementalist shots of blows to all the shit talking Mansell golden cold everyday the lyrical Pages grow in more bold Windows 10 computer friends no pocket phone book vehicle men's I'm visualizing signs and every thing I read from shampoo bottles and magazines and everything in the store I'm seeing and put everything together spin it up mix it up put it in the oven serve it up that's how you get the sickest shit that you write ignite and Mike from the moonlight and the stars of flight of a astronaut in the days of the night and the night of the day to take time to waste no breath from a lung trouble got no lungs left put my reminisces in the treasure chest with a lot no chains on it though pain driven no pain driven cold in the snow I'm ending this fucking downhill roads roll I'll roll a hill Royce from my broken hands on the door with the door knob spin wait a minute here comes the nonsense again it just so happens I'm in the mood to talk a little shit on a beat that's got me wanting the hot of a hip and take a letter and bend like a mother fucking vice do I advise you to undermine to me the undermind of who I undermine knew cook tools that leave nasty visualized bruise on the head from thinking too hard instead of letting it just flow you want to see a magic trick I give you 20,000 songs in a drop of a pen pretty bold statement that something stamped in the pavement but better ask the city if they okay with call the concrete man dip of a dish because I scraped the food in the garbage of this abyss swallowing up by drugs and cuts myself cause leaving myself some really nasty scars and people tell me I need to stop sometimes it's hard so call me rapping on phone in cars I know big dreams and brain sound bizarre tell her I make way not to be arrogant if a day came but to be humbly out the deep of the sea with sharks live but who am I telling y'all already know this so why is the smoke blowing