Ill poetic, give me sixteen bars to kill the record//
When I wreck it, I'm killin ya intellect in seconds//
Rhymes I spill is similar to ill inventions//
I kill incorrections, keep it real I be stealin pensions//
Hittin like Joe Frazier with a mind raised in Asia//
But switched up coasts, born and raised in tha graveyard//
Learned to stick up ghosts, I'm quick to flip on most//
Trying to get a grip on mink coats so I can boast//
Holdin guns close, but I'm stayin nonchalant//
My rhymes is a beretta that's aimin at tha heart//
I used to be a seed swimming but I came on through//
Now I'm back at the beginning its like a Déjà vu//
Back in this hard life that's like quick towards rejections//
Towards imperfections, the lye that's infested in my breath//
Got my head spinning in four different directions//
Embracing depressions, with different races that's remaining precious//
Investments got me recording towards new fortunes//
Stickin out my hand ta try ta grab a few portions//
Drifting slowly, hitting blunts so I can listen closely//
My mind ready to expand when the shit approach me//
And expose me, and try to form me to a new man//
A device that got me right, I don't like to use with two hands//
The Mic is my weapon of choice, my Excalibur//
Swinging fiercely left and right, tryin ta reach higher algebras//
The only thing that can keep my body calm//
Never slips when it's kept deep in soggy palms//
I'm always on, never off, I can only dare those that try to grab mine//
And scare those with mad rhymes I recite till my mind sees the flatline//
Welcome to Illest Lyrics forum established in 2005.
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