Never Grow Up

I play the low in, you definitely know,

You probably never heard of me

Got hands that never shake,

It’s a steady hand surgery.

Already been, it’s just courtesy,

I’m the MC, didn’t mean it to not be

MC. Living proceeded by the

B8BU. Hey, you see, there ain’t no mother ****** take two.

Mistakes, too, happen, and

I ain’t afraid to keep ‘em living,

A paddom with a little pain and leave ‘em with the smell of riffle.

A palid move with a self receiver,

Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can’t tell it’s even

And I ain’t tell ‘em, either.

I did tell them this,

I guess I didn’t tell ‘em “give it”

But did sell the cevets,

Say it like

I seem repetuous,

I see them come and go, selling out biedous.

I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing

Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling

Sell a feeling for the river of exposure,

I’m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier.

There’s just no gimmick to this closure,

Just the image with the folk written over,

Just the vision of the finished rhyme,

I finish in a sense and

I send them all within a sign.

I’m sitting on a bench like it’s dinner time,

Not meant to offence, getting my thing.