|
smokin a black n mild by the banks of the nile; learned as a young child, stone crypts don't git defiled; so i -- FLIP.the.file, RIP.the.style, SPIT.an.smile, CHIPS.git.piled, my SHIT.is.wild; its.WRITten.I'll go on and do big things; already copped a little spot in the valley of kings; i hear y'all whisperin: "ayo, tutty, what he be on?"; but y'all' be airbrush murals, yo, when tutty be gone; sometimes, i get the feelin that it won't be long; but if i cross that line first i'ma finish up strong; fuck a flick i'll carve my shit in a rock; profilin like "what up?" wif my hand on my cock; if you bury me, make sure i got my platinum ankh; and my whole crew in the grave playin spades an tonk; cuz they riiide with me like that, an if i gotta go out; i picked the flyest casket, its gold, i'm finna show out;
** after he turned 17, tutankhamun's subject matter became more morose, and he began to speak of his mortality, almost with a sense of prescience.
peace & blessings,
x.
========================================= ** i move away from the mic to breathe in
|