Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth
I’ll realize the truth when I step in the booth
A lyrical Picasso, ya’ll getting passed, though
Your a bunch of ass holes, who just lost
Doesn’t matter on which side, I still refer to ya’ll as Bang Bross
Extensions of your hands crossed
Time to pray, ‘cause you know your being hunted
Some human beings talking ‘bout guns like a transformers stunt ad
I’m so high, people ask me where the blunt at
I’ll terrorize haters they dumb and
They will be dying here like a dumb peroxide blond act
So next time if ya ask me where my gun at
I’ll tell ya I don’t need one, ‘cause I usually tackle the subject
Don’t need to be gunned down, man
No stereotype man, I’m no stereotype rapper, man
I’m a truth speaker, so when
You tell me I can’t run shit, I respond with ‘so knee’ like them speakers, man
All I see is feeble trends, fluctuating like hormones in teens
The day they’ll win is the day whores will own fiends