feathers hittin the ground fins hittin the air everybody gittin twisters for new years
not dissin the hoods just rockin from the woods solid bounce brooklynonomous
shouldnt promise us cuz cuz'll grab your ish and I think the commisionors out on bail now. hes weavin tale now and thats a hell of a rug and for that ill toast another mug n roast another nug n shrug my shoulders cuz ya know life rings float n everybody needs a little holy goat to keep the gyros turnin yer lips blue so <<inhale>>
settin sails with finish nails hushin creeks onboards youll find the crew crude n crew'd up from the start
quotin poe n startin slow n its a tell tale heart it lets us know its to and fro its like the shopping for your cart
lets ya know your on the way n ill keep the lead in my gas today n cuz all my hair will eventually turn grey n i'll tell the tales of what they say was a siriusly b righter day but cuz the horsemans still got his head so take it away.. if ya find yourself without one..
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