i apologize to rhyme decline at the time of death no rime to stop the time of sinners the left i left assembly to much the touch is touching me yo get them down i crunch on ganja so lunch is ready to punch the waiter waited to long sing a song on a bong where in the middle of the hong Kong yo cinema woman are in a moll no kill em all heal em all catching the goal just ready to strike on the mic the like the Supreme wouuld do what? Giri the hill no pill chill what He would do sikee. yo you ready to battle middle Manhattan u latin or satin i getting hell from you