FIT THE MOLD
You think im out my zone cause i dont really fit your mold
but I'm a surrly fully loaded goioly bout to give it to ya folks bout to blow ya mind foes can't touch me with a ten foot pole
cause while some got dough and chains, biznotch got game and funk and soul
I go left and rightly so, I squiggle round and curve to and fro
I serve a slew of rhymes with style with a side of guess and know,
I mix in mental tricks try to sicken up your dome
trap you quick The shit i spits so toxic
I make Members of the audience need doctor visits
used to riot used to fight it but my synapses are shy
so no longer can they frolick, theyre too slow to really rock it
still i roll but all my fiest got heisted during the electroshock
they had to cut my memory in half so they could block
about a dozen trains of thoughts and then they locked me up
They said my rhymes were wack; I told them I couldn't stop in fact
They fed me melodies and lies in hopes of remedies
still i dreamed of killer beats so I could could nod my head in peace
What I spit was listerine cause post-lobotomy, im clean
my rhymes dont blow, they suck and few heads can handle me
First off princess on her throne, can't walk the walk
Biznotch kinda hood so ya'll just wanna mock
Last up, just Me, Amanda, the diseased
My daddy calls me B I'm a bitch plain and simply
I'm a master at sporatic rhyme flows on paper sheets
but i choke in every battle like im hanging from a tree
cause my weaponry consists of nothing but a dream
that end of life release craved by suicidal minds
like my sister rest in peace she died in blue and 2 feet high
I push the noose to enemies like vacuum sales peeps on the streets
protect ya neck is what i preach but the scenes put you to sleep
I got heaps of heebie jeebies but my violent side's weak
I try to keep my crudest muses and my evil omens quiet
But Locked up like fort knox I got an arsenal of shocks
The sermons slowly leak like mycelium does from beneath
Blood guts grime crime wreak hell as they creap
I got Sermons slowing seeping parasitic attitudes
Omens knock me over Ring of deadly Fueds Knock knock heres a clue OMENs
Poison all your livestock fill all the tombs to the top
Plague you dome and stop your heart with evil rotton plots
but alas I'm just a fast talking wannabe obscene
Part of me wanna shine some light on but I refuse to quit the dream
I'd rather blind your eyes cause I just ain't got no need for being scene
Here here this royal highness deem 2 ears and a mic all she need
My fists be clenching ink but I'd drop you drown the kitchen sink
cause once my pipes done got you gripped its up to me where they get linked
Ill take you places you didn't think a pretty girl like me would wander
I get kinky with my ponders but my verbiage dark and somber
you'd be finder of my flows if I could just direct them yonder
cause my frontinb' downright daunting, damn, my stubborn cunt's sure just me jammed
cause I clam up and block my Hauck, Keeping PG
has been my plan,
Like an angel, man, i've tried, but straight up truth ought be provided
