Cryogenik
12-16-05, 02:22 AM
A slave to my interests, yet a prisoner to obligation/
Contemplation on the breaking my back for this spawn of satan/
Okay, alright, maybe my hyperbole is deep/
So speak of my essence in vain and you'll get murdered in your sleep/
Terminally ill thoughts, unfiltered hip hop/
Mixed with a dose of rationality and dank from the zip lock/
Took the road less traveled, made a fatty pit stop/
This spot that get's watched, now they got a kid locked in the fukking cellar/
These bleak city dwellers/
She needs some advice, best bet the bank tell-er/
Where she need to go in life, wether ho or wife/
Take that silver platter puzzy or love, I chose strife/
I don't write for the ends, so that means fukk a justification/
My word play like speech made by mute DJ's running the station/
Sorry, take your time to rewind so your mind could solve this crisis/
Decipher the train of thought, take a breath....
Here, now eat this orange slices/
As I nurture the game like soccer moms/
My flow got kids pissing themselves like taking wizzes with condoms on/
Look Cryo, get a grip on yourself cuz your thoughts are gone/
I could have sworn I came in here to write a nifty party song/
But now you're talking about kids pissing themselves and that's not chill/
Dudes got prostate problems and shyt, not everyone can piss at will!/
And one more thing..why is it every drunk kat's got an ice grill/
Like they're afflicted with down syndrome and took few vic pills/
Maybe it's my ravishing good looks and they feel threatened/
But most likely it's cuz I FUKKED they girl, but who's guessing?/
I'm an emcee, yes.........yes, I'm an emcee/
But I'm a shyt talker first, and that's what matters to me/
Contemplation on the breaking my back for this spawn of satan/
Okay, alright, maybe my hyperbole is deep/
So speak of my essence in vain and you'll get murdered in your sleep/
Terminally ill thoughts, unfiltered hip hop/
Mixed with a dose of rationality and dank from the zip lock/
Took the road less traveled, made a fatty pit stop/
This spot that get's watched, now they got a kid locked in the fukking cellar/
These bleak city dwellers/
She needs some advice, best bet the bank tell-er/
Where she need to go in life, wether ho or wife/
Take that silver platter puzzy or love, I chose strife/
I don't write for the ends, so that means fukk a justification/
My word play like speech made by mute DJ's running the station/
Sorry, take your time to rewind so your mind could solve this crisis/
Decipher the train of thought, take a breath....
Here, now eat this orange slices/
As I nurture the game like soccer moms/
My flow got kids pissing themselves like taking wizzes with condoms on/
Look Cryo, get a grip on yourself cuz your thoughts are gone/
I could have sworn I came in here to write a nifty party song/
But now you're talking about kids pissing themselves and that's not chill/
Dudes got prostate problems and shyt, not everyone can piss at will!/
And one more thing..why is it every drunk kat's got an ice grill/
Like they're afflicted with down syndrome and took few vic pills/
Maybe it's my ravishing good looks and they feel threatened/
But most likely it's cuz I FUKKED they girl, but who's guessing?/
I'm an emcee, yes.........yes, I'm an emcee/
But I'm a shyt talker first, and that's what matters to me/