Bread

my battle is bread the battfield is where your battle is dead like a horse on three legs a Jachie who lost a bet me and you your gonna wish we never met cuz it's step by step the closer you are to death the fowler the stench I'm all star your back up on the bench your mental movements to slow you gonna need some milk and a wrench not yourself back into discussion or maybe take a hint your styles not mint or wanted like a simp here's some lesson.for ya I could be your pimp but I take a big cut I can give you everything you want but you will still be a punk