And I reply , the voice from the sky
in mint condition, but no pretty brown eyes
so high so fly, as Asiana pass by
Yo Mama tried to ride, dropped her ass in the Pharcyde
of town , I clown in this digital underground
far from Common , but soul by the pound
Around like Pac, Tevin and 7elevens
I'm wrecking, pocket and Neck protectin
Inspect the deck , no inspector gadgets
resurrect my name with razors and ratchets
jackin for life jackets, Jergens and Janet Jackson
pursuit with passion only ends in class actions
Quite crass I imagine these Dragons
unleashed the Sisqo , and can't get it back in
Blacking out no doubt, I know just what you're saying
someone sedate his ass, sick styles i'm slaying

>jackin for life jackets, Jergens and Janet Jackson
>pursuit with passion only ends in class actions
>Quite crass I imagine these Dragons
>unleashed the Sisqo , and can't get it back in
>Blacking out no doubt, I know just what you're saying
>someone sedate his ass, sick styles i'm slaying


Yeah, you got a little bit of a temperature! ... *semi~sick*

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm