my subconcious glisten kinetic genetics spreaded offensive offense wind strong to knock em off since the tribe era my lines terror if i want to see god i look in the mirror image is clearer than waxed floors niggas don't want to stray in my lane their taking detours killing tracks wack producers sent to the beat morgue
My evidence, my own testament, written on wood
Twelve tribes layin at the head of corners in hoods
Last edited by J.T.S.; 11-14-2012 at 11:01 AM.