F64

The booth wasn't new to him Watch what I do to him Holy water flows like I swam from Jerusalem The bishop had the juice for him I came and diluted them Mixed the recipe and broke bread like the eucharist They say I should be civilised But out there, they are heavily criticised You should be grateful I'm real and I spit my life So fuck if I flip punk or if I flip white And I'm still gripping knives But without sin and lowblows, I got that Riddick Bowe flow That's benefit cold flows You ain't spittin' snow globes, no biker Speed but don't stall it Cause I'm the type to ride 'till I die I won't walk it The mad scientist I'm back in the lab My formula's the pen and I create the method with pads Now add H2O flows plus the beat You don't know subtractions Then that will cause a chemical reaction Action, get the picture Closed caption Attraction Smooth criminal, Mike Jackson I'm that fly, think I stepped out of the spaceship Extraterrestrial with Pluto on the bracelet My third eye's open, no need for binoculars Bullseye, when I aim the flame from kilometres I'll blow your oesophagus Me, my tre pound ain't monogamous I lay down the biggest hippopotamus I'm a rebel so they call me Benny Blanco From Carlito's way, I took the left to Toronto Oh, I bang hammers like a bongo Accelerate and didn't stop like OJ's bronco Dress code's debonair My swag's up fly boy, no feathers here But I still shot the O over the hemisphere Straight to Macy's, cop Ralph Lauren tennis gear No Floetry, fam I spit poetry Langston Hughes when I rap but I flow on beats Over the years, they try slander my name But I carry Tottenham on my back I can harbour the screen I'm lyrically athletic, I ain't running outta breath When I run tracks, it's just a workout for my legs Rocky to training, me and Balboa on the steps Spit heavyweight bars like I'm working on my chest I got the best drugs, 9 out of 10 dubs That's why they come for 2 white 1 brown, N Dubz Got 'em screaming nanana when they faze you All follow along when I cook it like baker I buy the Barra', Champs no Lager I'm done with the red, I'm on my black stripe Prada From heaven, I will raise hell The chain keeps the Lord in me In these true religions, even Christians adore me I'm low on sugar darg, the roads say I'm diabetic I got the insulin for sweet boys that disrespect it The definition of bittersweet symphony The type to turn sour if it's sweet like a symphony