1. |
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I'm not compulsive, I just like to be neat.
When I write, when I speak, when I vibe to a beat.
When I sleep, when I eat, when I'm packing a bowl, rapping a flow, acting a fool or flashing my soul.
I'm not compulsive, I just like to be neat.
In my head, when I'm flowing, while I'm walking down the street.
On a pad when I sketch, between lines when I rhyme.
Meticulously scripting this so I can stay on time.
I'm not a human, I'm a monster wondering the Earth.
Pondering the worth, since birth, a compliment to dirt.
'Cause we're all ash to dust and flesh to soil.
Fuck the stress and toil, let's keep it fresh as foil.
Fresher than some produce in a tupperware container.
Changing every brain with some hip hop flavor.
So savor the taste that we're dishing on your plate.
In your face so quick that we leave no trace.
Ninja vanish into blackness with a lack of concern for rapping passionless nerds fastened to fashion over words.
This is a tactical surge, target practice with a verse.
Rationing the happiness with a tad bit of disturbed.
Giving gifts every time we hold the mic to our lips.
For the caterpillar rappers on some fuzzy soft shit.
Chicken scratch this while you whacks write notes.
Coat your throat with vomit like sour cream in pantyhose.
Randy Rhoads shredding seven days a week on the verbal tip.
Words and herbal rips lead the search for the purpose and the worth of this life that we've all been observant and determined in.
Digger a little deeper than the surface, kids.
Verbal lessons through expressions and thought.
Something you gotta have when you're born. It can't be taught, can't be bought.
My niceness is priceless.
Don't get sick 'cause these monsters are a virus.
I've got a dustpan clutched in my hand but I can't quite reach the broom.
You see, I traded in my land for a bucket of sand and my smile for a piece of gloom.
Just to see the scenic view of standing both feet in the tomb.
So now I let the wind be the guide, a rhythm to find, in search of a decent tune.
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Rain
00:56
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5. |
In the Distance
02:23
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