Cross ‘Em Out and Put A.K.

Killing time filling up my asenine, backwards assin’ rhyme, in fact it has no tact, with words as wack as my mind.

I should reword my shit to get rewards and shit, but fuck it, they can come suck it, after I just got done butt fuckin.

That way I leave that shitty taste in your mouth, from that rhythmic waste, found in my unpronounced vowel sounds.

If my words were weapons, you should be concerned and get steppin. Cuz the verbs I’m reppin, are the PAC man to your Teken.

They’ll gobble you up and ghost you, like a prostitute was supposed to. What you’re saying doesn’t come close to.

Hookers and sluts, lookers with butts, Meth cookers with guts, all will take y’alls money and run, until they took your stuff.

Nothings off limits with these pigeons, I'm not kiddin, they’ll steal everything in your kitchen worth dishin’ sellin’ for fixin’.

Oh the life of a junkie, the strife alone could’ve sunk me. no glove fucking and some plundering a few chunky bunnies.

Blah blah blah, all these hot twats not wearing a bras, sharing tops in broad daylight, not caring, broads be like ‘stop starring'