from by sign one



This pitch is none of your business
Nor is what's inbetween
And I bet you wish it was Xmas
Every day is Halloween
The grind is much like the hustle
And the game'll go straight to your dome
And "part of me rich man, pardon me homeless.
Offerings unto his own."-me
it makes no sense to think in terms
of lost or forgotten men
On a carton of milk with a handful of heads
The bosses rotten pen
Who just can't write no more
But with the healing powers of Christ
I'm back with a flash of light
A pocket of poems
And a mouthful of ice
I bet you wish this was rap music
I don't even know what that is
But I do know "it takes a nation of millions.."
And "nobody beats the biz"
This ain't your average axiom asshole
Eat it consider it true
It goes one for the money
Two for the credit
And three.
And the rest is for you
Cause the radio said hip hop is dead
And the kids all listen to country
I said "fine by me" it's fine time we
Move on. Now how bout some lunch meat
I need a wardrobe like Prince
And a grill like Steve yzerman
I'd be the baddest rapper from SF
To Bedford Stuyvesant
You can search the world for the perfect girl
Or the job you think is worth working
But you never get blessed with a light like mine
Or a crew as dope as jerk circuit
And your dogs commence to dissipate
Hip hop ages gracefully
By the time I finish my debut album
The nursing home better have space for me
Some days I just can't Fck with
About lost my mind the other night
Every morning I wake from a 10 year coma like:


from Bottom Dollar, released September 13, 2016



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Endemik Music Montréal, Québec

Independent hip hop and experimental label since 2001.

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