I leave professors Scientifically scarred ‘n’ keep weed in jars, my 16 bars are above par, I got hydraulics on my golf cart / talkin’ holy shit like Jesus farts, conceited cuz every last 1 of my darts is sharp / like laser rays, I hate tha game, plus I player hate, check tha dreamscape, a fiend for fame ‘n’ how my brain quakes / I like tha cocaine escape ‘n’ because of it I’m in chains, I snort methamphetamine ‘n’ no MC could get tha best of me / stupid kids sniffin’ ketamine ‘n’ every man for his self, how I excel propellin’ semi-auto shells / long ago I lost my shell, I twist tha Bell Curve, my felt tip misspells words ‘n’ I’ve expelled the urge / tha many levels of hell I’ve travelled thru are grungy boulevards ‘n’ lavish avenues, it’s accurate in how I’m passin’ thru / graffiti vandalize minds, to leave my mark on tha planet, I inhale exhale truth damages…
Any errors in Twisted's lyrics are solely that of typist & not in any way reflective of Twist's original handwritten work. Twist reviews typewritten work sent him by snail mail, any needed corrections are made & returned via snail mail from Twist who is in belly of beast.
Listen to me spit over phone from prison, serving 12 yrs for robbery
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