Get Low

Yeah. Yo, ayo, this is for Sean Price. I'm goin' off beyond twice the god-like form in All white they call Christ. The cross left with a hard right that'll lift You off like aerial assaults performed in a Dogfight. Front to back like fog lights to exhaust Pipes, from the thunderclap of an armed strike to Dissolve life or write discord life like what is Left in a cartwright when you're 'bout to card Swipe 'cause the market marked at the wrong price. Sick wit it, a dick with Syd Villus for Quick bitches that done hit into six digits. Big business, Swiss cash and kiss fishes. Ironic how I'm bridgin' the gap with Chris Rivers. About to make a cycle begin. I'm from Bus, he's from Parnis, the roundtable Cypher again. My nigga Floss accident, Streetlight, move definite, a forte that'll put Geronimo excellence, a shout to y'all catchin' this. Considered the best next to the wordplay like Shakespeare with a feathered pen. I am where the etch-a-sketch begins. What you're seeing is the connected tether between Separate ends. The genius becomin' the best of Friends with the meanest schizo friend I see in His reflective lens. Worse than David Berkowitz with a burnin' brick Aimed at exertin' his murderous urges with Assertiveness. I felt the rage with a twist like A cursive end, but it came with a calm Like results from a search engine. 'Cause in this world of sin cursed with men, I back up what I say like the hard Drive a journalist is workin' in. "But hey, you're from the suburbs, dude." Well, Tommy Lynn Sells and Charles Manson were from The suburbs, too. What I do shouldn't concern you, 'cause when I Turn to a gun ticker, guess who the gun Turns to? Expect pain from the checkmate of the Chess game through more testing than Ed gained for A Met change. You'll be left with a dead Brain. You're better off sniffin' lead paint for 110 Days. I'm insane. I'm insane. Like Slim Shady with his fist raised In Kim's face, ready to hit straight with all Of his strength through a chin brace 'cause she Was fuckin' men in his place next to the Room where his kids laid. The slow goons are the course of this, a Slow orphanage. I'm turnin' every open camp into Auschwitz. The darkness is what the all exists, Talkin' shit about the price they paid but way Higher the cost of it. Part of this can't call a quits. When the odds on your side, it's lookin' even A fourth of it. It's your favorite sound, Bouncin' harder than a check for five mil from 50 Cent's bank account. Motherfucker. Cypher god. Cypher god. Cypher god. Cypher god!