Rap is so fake- records are wax museums/ half these cats out spit bout gats, loot, threesomes./ too bad i’m anti-crime, I’d be like smack-shoot-piece em!/ my stop the violence posts go back 2 weeks, son./ My bars flex like circus acts, you wack. Too weak, son./ Get back to the lab get your rap groove tweaked some.
Your teams full of liars, calling them Pinocchios/ You ain’t got real boys. Gepetto’s crew, 4 feet nose./ And the weed ya peddle? When chiefed fools forfeit those./ I’m on some better ish- the sack I cops called Tokyo/ Driftin’ in my mind while my freestyles flow like torpedoes/ My heartbeat’s IN but with my girl I had to tour the coast.
I used to be a straight edge. Pen and pad had wide rule/ Went from change to paper game once I dipped outta high school/ College ruled me and my pockets slim within no time too./ Not from gym grind, but from brokeness, couldn’t buy food./ Friends said “Stay hungry when you rippin’ on a rhyme, dude.”/ My hunger pangs rang like bended knees and “I dos”./ You rappin hella soft tissue paper brush stroke- haiku./ Only rippin’ is the flesh from my lips when spittin’ rhymes. You’ll/ see G-a-b-e be a G. No lying, fool./ You swear to tell the truth, nothing but the truth? I do.
More Truth than Sojourner. Spit tooth, bite no further/ Bar this? No hold’s better./ Mic check, withdrawal never/ My chic banks. Ya’ll met her?/ She chills like cold weather./ Big deal, like pro cheddar/ take notes like Coachella/ you kids should know better
With the resting bitch face, she’s quenching all the thirsties/ If looks could kill, she’s the trigger where perp squeezed/ Straight from 219 to the 415 you heard me?/
Take a trip with me, flying higher than the birdie. Eagle-eye view from the sky, it’s 3:30./ Shout out to the captain and my mean lil girlie./ Popped a couple bottles from her wine club early./ Followed by vodka, AA couldn’t learn me./ I was raised to ride clean, so don’t approach me dirty thirty.