y’all is pure fluff, I brolic thug, with tha pen in hand it’s like a 3rd stage alcoholic that’s drunk / yo, my symmetry is Gambino Genovese, I slice necks exemplary all tha way stuck in a penitentiary / taught many lessons lost, I found out who’s tha God, Picasso thought portraits, my sword bloodies up your Jordans / script a dart with 16 bars of war, tha commercial faction try to infiltrate tha culture ‘n’ hold me captive / my pen jams acrobatics with shrewd skill ‘n’ verbal aerodynamics, in Los Angeles we prevent the arrival of the ambulance / aneurisms appear in temporal lobes, I splash priests at catechisms ‘n’ thoughts is difficult / I’m tha apex ‘n’ tha pinnacle, let’s take it back to tape decks, rewind tha cassette like “did he just say that?” don’t procreate with me, I got phrases that’d stab a G, ‘n’ I recant my savagery…
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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