keep your 3rd eye open, vocal tone spoke copious, throats get slit by tha wit I wrote / bitch, you can’t grasp tha flow, flaccid I’m still hard, grab tha sex packet, hoes love God ‘n’ get tha name carved right next to their favorite bars, I remain scarved ‘n’ in an iron cage contains my heart / parvenu rappers get menage’d by accountants ‘n’ from true ciphers they get ousted / clean your triple optic contacts, Bausch ‘n’ Lomb thoughts reverse Pyrexes ‘n’ bring raw back / tha God of Rap slaps tracks for free, cats heard me, tha ruffneck rough draft assassin claps at these haphazard half-ass ignor-amuses, let ‘em do a bid with me, they’ll get stabbed in line for their packages / acupuncture accurate, remember how I hold all of rap captive ‘n’ implant authentic word formations in how tha God meant it vintage, my wisdom 6th sense it, my rhyme’s hella thick like Serena with tha tennis, aleve my addiction when I sniff it, more rugged than a pair of Timberlands…
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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