Banausic life shaves my spine. Seven days of serrated boredom. This Failing routine is killing me. Content and dull. I strive for what's meaningless
to face 50 grand like medusa The shit I produce is like gin and juice when it blend Scenes from toni braxton you'll never breath again I rhyme without
There the camp of the Black Pope was placed His legions breath, through the valleys the raced Charlots they rode, and their skulls were iron-plated Belching fire
raised There the camp of the Black Pope was placed His legions breath, through the valleys the raced Charlots they rode, and their skulls were iron-plated Belching fire
scared to face 50 Grand like Medusa The shit I produce is like gin and juice when it blend Scenes from Toni Braxton you'll Never Breath Again I rhyme
doobiest the many demon dip Stuck to my face till my lungs embrace the death You see a crowd of souls choking on and smoking my breath Flat tire, no fire
to my brain but I'm immune to the pain Satans will is stronger but it flew to my veins As I breath the rooms spinnin my breath was growing thin Death
the many demon dip Stuck to my face till my lungs embrace the death You see a crowd of souls choking on and smoking my breath Flat tire, no fire, stuck
