its like sosa AZ close ta making the format
a door slap away from reachin the cores wrath
ready to bubble over
hard to be sain and to vain to be sober
my closure unpainted still in its middle stages
the visual in scattered pages
so critical i sound contaigous
yall been biting the steez since liquor pure and teethin Jeez
its front page bold letter forever the virus
ya highness lights out bury them eyelids
i poster child like Kemp in his prime
stetsasonic supersonic seattle the dime
gave Payton his moniker "the glove" now digest
then took it all back when J Dubb ripped his lig-a-ments
ima fig-a-ment figure of disfigurement
now picture phlegm acidic and slicker gem
i trigger pen ink and sink into the ocean
you bitter then leap and seap into ya own sins
i own pins decorated soldiers and Grown men
you flow then keep it to yaself like convulsions
the frozen moment exposin the chosin one
i prose to pun
ponder the thought...ya might ulcer son
like needles puncture skin packed with heroin
to breathe fresh air again
i wasnt prepared to win
i lost wind mometum prevented my progress
you walk swim contendin contention for gods bless
its a hot mess we live on a rocks stress
beating at you daily the rhythm is nonsense
ya hearts chest pulls strings that dont exist
you start to press skull seems to fold intense
pressure knoggin pounds exterior shows the pain
agresser is often crowned superior novicaine
ya go numb from head to toe...except ya flow
the body of a verse is where the tension grows
so keep ya pension close M O P ante up
its an ad-venture toast to ya seeds and goodluck
ya survival kit to this lightning quick
thunder strike ya wig leave ya enticed to spit

"dude, the only thing i fear is your hair cut.. what is that a mop glued to your head? come on man... style up."-Bartek

all across ya forhead and cheek bones...i break facials and reconstruct beauty to ugly...im an artist mang...Lincoln Picasso Van Gogh