I eat MCs like pussy, rob ‘em ‘n’ lick ‘em with gun shots through they Stussy shirts / yo bitch, when you weren’t lookin’ I jooked ya Gucci purse ‘n’ took tha CREAM / infrared beam on tha Intertech rip thru tha seam / rap is not what it seems, 25s with tha nickel gleams / cut tha pound into quarter-ounces / Hip hop is in my genes ‘n’ I ain’t talkin’ Levi-Strauss / I need tha cheese, pull out tha quarter-pound Milo’s all about tha verbal joust ‘n’ big brown round asses /I splash kids ‘n’ slap ‘em with tha classics / tha Purple Tape, Chronic ‘n Illmatic, or any track I happen to be manufacturin’, 12 inch or cassette / I grip pens ‘n’ tha sentences I script inflict duress, my voiceprint is audio coitus for eggheads / congested with vignettes, a rap purist with fervent obscene obscureness / liturgic sermons deeper than tha surface that murk kids like David Berkowitz with a 30-30 / 730, Arm Leg Leg Arm Head, I ascend, my bars transcend flesh…
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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