[Intro]
Alchemist, you know me, man
I'm the type of nigga that write rhymes
Right on the spot in the studio soon as I hear the track
You know what I'm sayin'?
Word, but I wanted to bring
A couple of books to the studio today, man
I found these shits up in the crib, man, in boxes, man
I don't even remember when I was writin' these shits
Or what's in these shits, man
Probably a bunch of bullshit, man… fuck it, check it
[Verse 1]
How can I trust you when I can't trust me?
Picture myself a old man, a O.G.
Some niggas will conversate with liars all day
Time pass— (Nah, let me start somethin' else)
Soul on ice, death threats given by clowns
I guess livin' is prison when you live around clowns
I'm hexed, cursed, worse I been blessed first
I thought I was abnormal ‘cause I would overcome any tasked called to
So there it is, I'm a prince, I'm against lames
Who do minor shit, swear they on the top of they game
Your rhymin' is called "Vagina Monologue," it kinda supports
Theories of scary niggas who should lie in the morgue
Rarely y'all come in contact with the real
Since Pun passed, he was the last shine of sun I could feel
Yo, said there's a few left since music's expressions of life
Damn, I wish I took more time to write in my book of rhymes
Alchemist, you know me, man
I'm the type of nigga that write rhymes
Right on the spot in the studio soon as I hear the track
You know what I'm sayin'?
Word, but I wanted to bring
A couple of books to the studio today, man
I found these shits up in the crib, man, in boxes, man
I don't even remember when I was writin' these shits
Or what's in these shits, man
Probably a bunch of bullshit, man… fuck it, check it
[Verse 1]
How can I trust you when I can't trust me?
Picture myself a old man, a O.G.
Some niggas will conversate with liars all day
Time pass— (Nah, let me start somethin' else)
Soul on ice, death threats given by clowns
I guess livin' is prison when you live around clowns
I'm hexed, cursed, worse I been blessed first
I thought I was abnormal ‘cause I would overcome any tasked called to
So there it is, I'm a prince, I'm against lames
Who do minor shit, swear they on the top of they game
Your rhymin' is called "Vagina Monologue," it kinda supports
Theories of scary niggas who should lie in the morgue
Rarely y'all come in contact with the real
Since Pun passed, he was the last shine of sun I could feel
Yo, said there's a few left since music's expressions of life
Damn, I wish I took more time to write in my book of rhymes
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