Fistful of wood, twisted for the good
I go to bed reading my book
Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks
No assignments, book of rhyming and i’m drawing doodles
But i guess that shit's just tough love
A book full of blank pages
Smoke ? you know it taste good
Put your face in a book
The first indication, a revelation
Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin
Book of eli, i just came to fill my water jug
Who the fuck invited mr. i don't give a fuck
Book of poetics, like ancient relics when i rhyme
By the minute i was getting paid like a hot line
Sky high, iced out paradise
Of the book of your life
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