Mr. SongWriter

[Verse One] Yo, this is Action Bronsonelli in the place to be Peace to the ultimate warrior posted up in Astoria Bronsolini is the name and when I rhyme its euphoria To the death of me, motherfuckers seeking that serum I got the recipe, soft shell crabs right out the Chesapeake The devil's basil laying lovely in the plastic jar Open it up from the aroma almost crashed that car New York livin', linen shorts we too horse driven And when we sitting down to dine at least there's two course swimming Probably calamari, my young shooter I call him Gallinari Still serve the Knicks, nibbles of parmigiani Hand-craft the cheeses, aged inside the cave to thaw Off to my tailor alterations for my days in court Come to the park with my jump shot, got five bets I'm on price, deadly in the clutch with the precision of a shark bite After that we split the paper up and spark the pepper flakes Flying to the heights, Dominican buffet for pepper steaks You know its Queensbridge you hear the flavour of my music My brother Lonny manoeuvre huggin' knotties in the Buick, fluid Close-knit, no shit just like a herringbone And laid over the sweater of many brothers of [?] My aura glistening, my shit's official in And for my platter's three stars, the book of Michelin Study Ju-Jitsu in, closets of crystalline I'm known to rock the green ballys straight out of switzerland, Peace My facial hair better than Tom Selleck, smoke the bomb tree Under the palm tree, accent mimicking Connery Pardon me lady, slow roasted animal smothered in gravy Flow like the navy, you play me, then you snoring with daisy Bronsolinio, the motherfucking number one rap singer The number one rap singer in the universe Cause I'm the master of the universe, call me He-Man Mister songwriter, Bronsolini, Bronsolinio Bronsonolski, Action Bronstein, George Bronstein Action Castanza Yo it's Action Bronson