Panchino
I’ve got a poster of Al Pacino on my wall with a gun in his hand and a look in his eye
Like he might know just how I feel right now.
This too shall pass.
You know I’m quick to go syllaballistic, nothing majestic
Just fresher than the next, I flex through text.
So turn up my transcript.
Danny ran the gambit, lamping lab to lab;
Down to collab’ on any track you have.
I’ve been laughed at for my abstract attack.
Actually they be pullin’ from what I said way back.
The cycle circles, like landfill buzzards.
They must be the rich birds ‘cause I heard a blue jay say,
“That’s my cousin.”
Zippitydooda ain’t nuthin’ happenin’!
These rhymes are Randy Moss practicing route runnin’,
But from the couch cushion with a beer and the sun comin’ up in the morning’.
If what’s done in the dark gets a look in the light, I’ll keep writin’.
I’m not a Titan, but I’ll spit a tight one.
Stay fightin’ to make a livin’ with this gift I’ve been given with all of my might man.
Come get it!
I’ve got a poster of Al Pacino on my wall with a gun in his hand and a look in his eye
Like he might know just how I feel right now.
This too shall pass.
People they be lookin’ at me like
What an idiot, he need to getta betta gig,
A job that got some benefits,
But they don’t really get that I’m a Limited Edition.
Attempted to spitit ever since a little kid could listen to
Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike and Ralph,
Kept his attention practicin’ a repetition.
Now I’m a lethal weapon chippin’ away at this existence,
And livin’ in it minute to minute,
Not limited with timidity.
No longer interested in any industry entity.
It’ll take a shiny dime & pretty penny just to get wimme.
Spittit independently these companies are human centipedes:
Stinkin’, slimy & slippery.
Forgimme for the vivid imagery!
My intentions are never to send any venomous energy.
Danny be in the periphery, Jammin’ in anonymity.
Runnin’ with raggety, rugged, rabid personalities,
Makin’ it happen, tappin’ the pads, rappin’ in back o’ da crib
In a cabin, labbin’ up with Dakota said the colder the flow da better
Let’s go get da Cheddar.
I’ve got a poster of Al Pacino on my wall with a gun in his hand and a look in his eye
Like he might know just how I feel right now.
This too shall pass.
I guess I’m stuck up ‘cause I don’t bust with the young’uns love
I’m just a dummkopf, from Bumkuf, Egypt, my bruh.
Where dreams of a young buck die quick like duh
It’s a venomous Venus Flytrap once you catch that bug
Hurry, catch a bus cause guilt is all the trailways
But a ton of us collapse under the need to hell raise
Low class, slow learner, fought and got my bell rang
Actin’ hard but I was more Chitty Chitty than Bang Bang
Cause bullets and bbs are just not the same thing
Pumped up my Daisy twenty times, my safety stays off
Like a thought process with a brain bleed
Not the sharpest bush axe in the shack
My main squeeze is the MIC.
I sling no K, E, Ys and my M. O. use, “Let’s see.”
Everything is my muse; I’m 5’7, obese.
478 is the zip ‘til Alexander deceased.
To say the least, life is a trip around the sun until your done
So why not shoot from the hypocritical hip we’re equipped with
As nitwits from Earth.
Sick of what we’re sick with And the anger hurts.
I’ve got a poster of Al Pacino on my wall with a gun in his hand and a look in his eye
Like he might know just how I feel right now.
This too shall pass.