I chase the taste with red rum
Till shake n bake …predicates seasoned steak that’s well done
I Ail ’em
Till the Achilles can’t heal ’em
And the hyrogiphics written heal toe on ya cerebreum
Need ones?
Cause the vending machine with skills
Respit’s the wrinkled and crinkled
I slepted on ya ice cream flo
Then ripped ya van winkle …
Fickle
mc’s get blown …till that lil light dwindles
And I stand alone in mind windows
Like lit trees at Christmas …
If, if wasn’t in the middle
Of ya life
When I lift
This gift … to spit
The wonder wouldn’t be mysterious
The shit
Would shift ya life
To le’ for my spliff
I’d hit it then declare to the cypher …
“I’m putting out the rest … and rolling one of my writtens cause I don’t believe in passing stress …”

.... then repost the whole shit with an edit and update message