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Jun 2014
Some dim witz, try and talk slick; I'll flip the linquistics on these limp biscuits, like it’s No body’s Business, for instance; these lyrics throw bricks at ******, that write lyrics like bones and sticks; you barely hear it, and nothing sticks. So I will put it like this; my pen dragging is a lyrical assist of my mind management that coexists with an untapped abyss capable of slick rap antics, with acrobatics, sick enough to spit dope **** to a fiend and crack addicts; the flow problematic; semi-automatic with the flips, and a-wrist-to-go craft it; now your verbal way; above average. I’m on a roll; way a head of the class *****. My Style switch like a buy chic; trying Bi ****, and she 5'6 six with some nice ****, kissing a ginger, same height, both wearing tights- I like it. Funny how things *** together; Good-night. Its not over; I'd like-to get it started, get it right. You like the way I write, you should see me when I am right. Now, drunk off wine coolers and sprite; and my buds' light; so everyting is gonna to be aright. Prepared for one hell of a fight; writers block, get's a hook, then a right; then in the  a.m. I am, out for the night. my word play, ******* with my sight- translation, I will be so tired in the morning, the morning will be my night.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
812
 
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