I toss and turn, still yearn, for the opportunity to be tunefully an mc. so I construct these flows beautifully. This poetic redneck, I'm epic. atmospheric. a relic. Make you jealous. Almost heaven. My 6.7. Cummins thru the door. Pedal to the floor. you don't want no more. I'm an ogulated might be discombobulated, juggernaut in human form, comin thru the storm, gonna rock the beat worth no metronome or methadone, so let it it be known, once I hit that microphone. They all gonna stop. And they jaws, they gon damn sure drop. They wannabe illuminati but they ain't hungry. so what I'm country. your still rusty. a fuckin hussy. go get your teddys. so we can pinch some pennies. Lynch em heavy. 719 is the place to be. aerospace monstrosity. with broccoli in our pipes. pikes peak. so baby please come fuck with me, maybe bring some company. shit well see if I turn out triumphantly. do you fuck with me heavy? or just like an ordinary. scary.