| In the meadows where we grow the rose petals
|
| And we sip a glass of Merlot
|
| While I blow the Portabello
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| Like Cruello with a Cigarillo
|
| Hello, Listen Up
|
| This is Asher from the Morrisville
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| A little North of Truck
|
| What the fuck?
|
| Oh you didn’t know little homie flow?
|
| He a pro, Use a little more
|
| You’s a little slow, how slow?
|
| Little Kelso. |
| Smoking elbows?
|
| If so, let me know I’ll just give you my cell phone
|
| Hell froze, Elmo, I’m sticking like Velcro
|
| So, you ain’t got the pasta you don’t get the Pesto
|
| Presto, Go to infinity and beyond it
|
| Rhyme shit spitting gets imprinted on your conscious
|
| Ash, shit, this world’s sitting in your palm
|
| And it’s important that you know this
|
| So you never get it wrong
|
| Says my Mom as she reads the Tarot cards and the stars
|
| This called me to go and be a motherfucking boss, Ricky Ross
|
| Look at Paul Roth, kid is all talk
|
| He’s a narc, he’s a lost cause
|
| Fuck em cut em off
|
| But this dog’s off his leash
|
| I’m showin yall my teeth when I speak
|
| Yeah, I mean I bring Prometheus heat
|
| Lean in your seat
|
| You’d think that they’d be leaping to see
|
| A commercial MC keep an ear to the street
|
| Because Jeez
|
| We sick of watching all this shit go on
|
| But this song ain’t done yet, so son you start marching
|
| A marksman, Part Marge, Part Bart Simpson
|
| But the other parts Descartes, Bars is raw wisdom
|
| A lost art. |
| I talk part of a larger mission
|
| But you’d rather slack off with Sharks than pay attention
|
| So Bark Bark, another subpar spittin'
|
| Yeah, my time is limited and I refuse to waste a minute
|
| So finish, Bustin' Ass, Snuffaluf-gas
|
| In the cab huffin' grass, Fuck it I puff puff pass
|
| Enough of that, Oughta buy out the suckerin' succotash
|
| Sup with Ash? |
| Yo, what happened?
|
| Yo, I heard that fucker cracked
|
| Yo, I heard he was abducted they put something in his ass
|
| Well, I heard he had a run-in with a bear and got attacked
|
| Now, Where’d you come up with that
|
| Run and tell your mother that this motherfucker’s back
|
| Paper or plastic? |
| Nah. |
| I bring my own bags
|
| Now how you want to pay for that? |
| Straight cash
|
| Evil Laugh
|
| Yeah, I’ve been playing phone tag for the last
|
| 6 months with my label, Tell them fools to call me back
|
| I play charades sippin' chardonnay fifty times a day
|
| Feeling great, can’t wait to taste the marmalade
|
| Fade away, Himalayan retreat to find me
|
| Good grief. |
| Loose leaf? |
| I treat it like Bruce Lee
|
| Who’s he? |
| Why y’all keep seeing truth in 2D?
|
| My speech be like I mixed Rufies with Kool Keith |