this suh'm I wrote when I first got with twin [jacob] and we was trying a' collab'...
2000:niggas is sitcoms, spit at me or the grunt don
you gon' need dentragrip...and leave with speech impediments
and as keys flip, find me buried in cheese swiss
your miss on her knees with my sneeze between her lips
the freeze from my hip bleeds toupees
ChristO turn a hard nigga to juicy fruit like Mtume
with Beirut tactics...1-7 [district] police couldn’t book me like 7-1 in Barrett
bodies still with them maggots from the mag clips
S.P. Killa’ Clique pack bags for trips
rx in the zips, guns in the whips
spilling on I-76 west to east
I-95th north and south about to creep on a foreign beat
and with no speak, only the heat-seek
brody outer-space like gangster astronauts with cow over the moon beef
return to base with the leafs packed in the bags like it was autumn
from the blow sold on the blocks like snow’s falling
and heat squeezed in a nigga brains like summer dreams
we roll in parades like mummers teams, plummet a fiend
with asteroid rocks so they remember to shop over S.P. Killa’ K...
...but anyway, was a reason I was writin' like this at the time...yeh, the bul jacub was asking me to...but in reality, my nature wasn't to condone the drug trade...
...but dude knew who I was before I did...eh, interesting story tho'...