01-10-2016, 07:46 AM
Saw some flowin an I thought I'd share again 
From the fire I came,
in an effortless climb,
out the pits like Mallory to Everest,
homie fuck a premonition pendin death
left for da expedition anyway,
I ain't temptin fate,
I'm livin up to it what,
You gotta walk with a lotta yo mind offa the off,
possibility that often stoppin muthafucka from bein great- get comfortable wit yo innate ability- humility you gotta be willin to take,
it's what make a man,
understand,
You gotta pan out from simplistic statistic
type linguistics,
check the exposition I expose the flows I'm proponent of
opponents components a bona fide example,
of what not to sample
you gon have to do better than that to get my stamp,
stop talking bout material.
Street imperial- heh, what a paradox
like how I go from ethereal talk,
to my pair of socks- they smelly
I'm belly up watchin Belly
Bun an Sin up in this homie I'm only what I choose to be a part of,
an homie choosin for me
its the art of:
Peer pressure- I measure risk to reward- never knowin what's in store- when you livin in my form-everyday is all out war with the world I'm torn(x2)
Yo,
Check it we up at 5,
early on the grind-
never late to the cake,
make a ho wait
I break em off great hate on me plate I paid fo in pain yo motive showed
weakness in ya motor,
defeat is in ya nombre,
ya pocket got no profit- lock it while I'm in the pocket take the hammer back an cock it,
point it at the muthafuckin punk rat talkin in the court of law?
You a bitch-ass snitch-ass,
jealous of them rich-ass
in mind and spirit and bomb come near it never you aint clever nuff so you muddle- you a puddle
we avoid you by steppin over you.
We da shoe dats game,
we da clue to the truth,
we da Kool and the Gang: old skool what.
We cuckoo like cocoa puffs,
we Dooku to Yoda cuh.
Record it- export it
pour it in ya pimp cup or snort it
I'm hoardin horticulture cultivated by tha white
lab coat weighin pounds never ounce
fuckin wit felony amounts
Yo, ima convict life we chose
(hook)
As you can see, my craft is nowhere near perfected. Still, the only way you find your voice is by experimenting and puttin ur stuff out there despite the humility you may face. The end of the song also is not properly aligned with the song either. Needs to be edited and mixed still but yee!
From the fire I came,
in an effortless climb,
out the pits like Mallory to Everest,
homie fuck a premonition pendin death
left for da expedition anyway,
I ain't temptin fate,
I'm livin up to it what,
You gotta walk with a lotta yo mind offa the off,
possibility that often stoppin muthafucka from bein great- get comfortable wit yo innate ability- humility you gotta be willin to take,
it's what make a man,
understand,
You gotta pan out from simplistic statistic
type linguistics,
check the exposition I expose the flows I'm proponent of
opponents components a bona fide example,
of what not to sample
you gon have to do better than that to get my stamp,
stop talking bout material.
Street imperial- heh, what a paradox
like how I go from ethereal talk,
to my pair of socks- they smelly
I'm belly up watchin Belly
Bun an Sin up in this homie I'm only what I choose to be a part of,
an homie choosin for me
its the art of:
Peer pressure- I measure risk to reward- never knowin what's in store- when you livin in my form-everyday is all out war with the world I'm torn(x2)
Yo,
Check it we up at 5,
early on the grind-
never late to the cake,
make a ho wait
I break em off great hate on me plate I paid fo in pain yo motive showed
weakness in ya motor,
defeat is in ya nombre,
ya pocket got no profit- lock it while I'm in the pocket take the hammer back an cock it,
point it at the muthafuckin punk rat talkin in the court of law?
You a bitch-ass snitch-ass,
jealous of them rich-ass
in mind and spirit and bomb come near it never you aint clever nuff so you muddle- you a puddle
we avoid you by steppin over you.
We da shoe dats game,
we da clue to the truth,
we da Kool and the Gang: old skool what.
We cuckoo like cocoa puffs,
we Dooku to Yoda cuh.
Record it- export it
pour it in ya pimp cup or snort it
I'm hoardin horticulture cultivated by tha white
lab coat weighin pounds never ounce
fuckin wit felony amounts
Yo, ima convict life we chose
(hook)
As you can see, my craft is nowhere near perfected. Still, the only way you find your voice is by experimenting and puttin ur stuff out there despite the humility you may face. The end of the song also is not properly aligned with the song either. Needs to be edited and mixed still but yee!
Crit away