i don't know where to start im sittin in the dark parked, spittin writtens to the cars, passin by, smokin verses like an addicts pipe, the lies you be buildin i make capsize, one breat, the only punchin i do leaves you snoozin with a black eye -- as i proceed to blow mo trees than a black guy , the flies buzzing round my verses, but your versions the ones that sounding like some magpies so ion even need to keep my eyes open when i tuck tight listen we keep the vibe light, even when enemies surrounding like anemones i got a style that can sell eskimo pies to an inuit, i sound chill but ill get wild if go into it hittin pockets like this 8 ball, i dont need to pray to lay psalms, reject ghost writers like i laid salt, you holding hoops but ion play ball the devil get anthralled when i spit cuz it like hell pm earth, with, the flames that i rip, shit comin back around once, she told me i be just for fun, now i dont ever pick up witta call back, im quit, im done,