[Hook]
When the clock strikes twelve
All Cinderella game pieces are delicately placed back on the shelf
With both shoes included
Duress with little movement
No longer will they be allowed to dance to the music
When the clock strikes twelve
All Cinderella game pieces are delicately placed back on the shelf
With both shoes included
Duress with little movement
No longer will they be allowed to dance to the music
[Verse 1]
Floorin’ ya, aura to create
Oracles deflate, oratorical weight of weightlessness
As I defy gravitational law, deny that you’re waitin’ them for
When nor was I, strip your disguise with my eyes, no contact
Not surprised that you despise reality, pressing for fantasy sessions
As perfection’s approachin’ me gradually
Actually, when you combine Blueprint and I mathematically
The light of the wisdom splits prisms, giving a log rhythm, it’s the dog in ‘em
Makin’ him fetch the next bone thrown by the master
Causing universal disaster when clones break from earth’s plaster
Stereotype-caster with a phony, the only
Stereo mic master, lonely at the top of the food chain, stoppin’ a fool’s reign
Solely for the purpose of making a hip-hop purchase
Worthless desist, and with this goal, I disperse a mist of flow script
To expose the limpness of your wrist
See bliss exists within this shell of flesh
As a mesh of life and death
Give me life or death and either one, I’ll have the reciprocal
While you have what’s given to you
Don’t wait for what’s left to write to give into you
‘cause in that time [?], you’ve taken and I’ve given a few
Gettin’ your crew is infeasible, and as far as me pleasing you, kill it
I write for my own ears if that’s all my sound is pleasing to
Take that to your memory bank as a deposit
And withdraw thoughts to taint illogic
Here alone you a project with interest so you can take some
Who cares if you take offense?
I’ll throw you and your crew over the fence
Wipe your mental slate clean and leave no fingerprints
But you spittin’ one of my writtens is evidence in a sense so take that to the judge
And I’ll take your blood in exchange for mud, the same value a change, right?
You’re left with your breath in one hand, mic in the other
Smother [?], gotta drop either or, chose which one you needed more
Now you’re death on a mic device
While I splice life, what would I write to illuminate the night and bring insight?
When the clock strikes twelve
All Cinderella game pieces are delicately placed back on the shelf
With both shoes included
Duress with little movement
No longer will they be allowed to dance to the music
When the clock strikes twelve
All Cinderella game pieces are delicately placed back on the shelf
With both shoes included
Duress with little movement
No longer will they be allowed to dance to the music
[Verse 1]
Floorin’ ya, aura to create
Oracles deflate, oratorical weight of weightlessness
As I defy gravitational law, deny that you’re waitin’ them for
When nor was I, strip your disguise with my eyes, no contact
Not surprised that you despise reality, pressing for fantasy sessions
As perfection’s approachin’ me gradually
Actually, when you combine Blueprint and I mathematically
The light of the wisdom splits prisms, giving a log rhythm, it’s the dog in ‘em
Makin’ him fetch the next bone thrown by the master
Causing universal disaster when clones break from earth’s plaster
Stereotype-caster with a phony, the only
Stereo mic master, lonely at the top of the food chain, stoppin’ a fool’s reign
Solely for the purpose of making a hip-hop purchase
Worthless desist, and with this goal, I disperse a mist of flow script
To expose the limpness of your wrist
See bliss exists within this shell of flesh
As a mesh of life and death
Give me life or death and either one, I’ll have the reciprocal
While you have what’s given to you
Don’t wait for what’s left to write to give into you
‘cause in that time [?], you’ve taken and I’ve given a few
Gettin’ your crew is infeasible, and as far as me pleasing you, kill it
I write for my own ears if that’s all my sound is pleasing to
Take that to your memory bank as a deposit
And withdraw thoughts to taint illogic
Here alone you a project with interest so you can take some
Who cares if you take offense?
I’ll throw you and your crew over the fence
Wipe your mental slate clean and leave no fingerprints
But you spittin’ one of my writtens is evidence in a sense so take that to the judge
And I’ll take your blood in exchange for mud, the same value a change, right?
You’re left with your breath in one hand, mic in the other
Smother [?], gotta drop either or, chose which one you needed more
Now you’re death on a mic device
While I splice life, what would I write to illuminate the night and bring insight?
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