With feelings that we're dry
Weighin 165 and these tricks should die
I write rhymes, dry and wise
Fuck trout, you bout? let's fish for ice
The angels sing and i feel like thats my roll call
Mirror mirror on the wall on the wall,
What's with the knife on the wall?
Wolf gang, kill em' all
The chap stick has run dry,
Tears that our fore fathers cry
Stifle fascination on wall street occupation
Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin
Why? cause i'll be fucking dry
Busting off, tryna touch the sky
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