Solitaire from Triboluminescent Materials by Spaghetti Blacc

It's the
chemically enhanced undead
Voodoo godsend here to stack heads
My niggas swarm like a hex
Catch flame like Pyrex
"am I next"
My bullets need so second guess
But I need a second sniff
That snowflake poundcake
shit make my nose break from snorting it
And bleed the seed of devils in me
Rebel stay tipsy so bullets
miss me
I pull it quickly and flip you
before you flip me
And see I make minced meat of all my enemies
It's easy
Drool game on a beezy
Who came to see me?
believe I'm shooting more than bb's
Needles in ya eyes
I pump the game you despise
glock and two white pies
A grown man's damn prize
But don't get it twisted
I ain't no adult
I'm a fuckin savage
In a one man cult

Take my word to the throat
Or take these tapes and slang em for vials of coke
Deep on the Steeple
Spittin to the people
Summer beef street
Cold like 9 below a kilo
I'll tie up ya family
Then bounce like a ball off the tiles of the white wall paneling
Check the demons I'm channeling
Manhandling haters till their fuckin panhandling
And you heard the plot
So you know you get in where you fit in or get shot

Point blank about to IV TNT, Spaghetti blacker than SQUID INC, bitch please roll these trees and pass em to me, and it better be some chewy laced with the ABC's, i need OCs DMT LSD, in my THC cutthroat soup recipe, twenty sack dude what do you mean? Gotta take out a mortgage every time I want green, foes who play this locc close tolerated like lactose, for spaghetti black you'd better have a dollar and a dose,

Rush hour when I rush punks for their powder, apocalypse for cowards testin flexin super powers, its been evident, spaghetti rape yo sentiment, proceed to feel like you had to swallow DNA evidence, In hindsight I get loud with my violence, so I only bump rap noise or silence shit a choir of sirens, finna have me retiring, but I only keep firing, till I ash on everything your aspiring, to be goofy off two doobies scoop groupies lewdly eying yo miss new booty thought you knew me, done stared at death and death done stared back, popped and peeled caps where the fuck death's cats at? lay low in the asylum, bounce back stylin still leave yo homeboy cryin, the king of all the lions

• 2011
• Experimental
• Hip-Hop/Rap
• Hip-hop
• Noise
• World
• electronic
• gangster rap
• new york
• pistol whip orchestra
• spaghetti blacc
• telekinesis
• New York