Wizdome
**** the atkins diet, your carbohyd its, some stupid bullisht, to make you sheepish, them folks you creep with, betray you And themselves, so when street its, always like hell, to dance with blue devils, or rock out the window, to keep it level, revolt with the rebels, to rhyme the greatest, to let it riddle, without the holes in flesh, and im stuck in the middle, to bust cold ice on the keyboard, lacks blood sweat and spittle, but im stuck tryin to make a dollar on 15 cents, and the game so fashionable who knows how it went, but the passion dies somewhere within the flames, and only the soul cries out the unspoken names, nomos no mas in the book of life, only god can judge me or put me under knife, in the lord and within without, im the macro micro i have no doubts, but the world is unforgiving they always feel you out, always setting you up no matter the route, the root is what gets hacked away, constantly never puttin the axe away, just tumblin in the barrel with fish and i stay rash actions cause im made out of clay, im a blind man talking to blind men so dont get led astray.
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Underground kings back in the slab, got money respect and platinum to grab
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