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Four to the floor, Lord of the lore You know, I'm never not keeping score You know the name I'm not responding to anymore Eyes lit by the holy flame of the Marshall sword I suppose things have changed, nigga Every drop of marrow barbarous, bloody, congealed, chunky grind Cycles of the pepper mill, keep it funky slime Young dreamers pussyfootin' My fear wouldn't let me blink The blacksmith at the sink, soaking hands of war Well fed, my consolation Well fed, my consolation Well said, my conscience narrating Well said, my conscience narrating Well fed, my consolation Well fed, my consolation Well said, my conscience narrating Well said, my conscience narrating Intuit, breathe, what you feel is what you believe Intuit, breathe, what you feel is what you believe I know what it means to be I know what it means to be I know what it means to be All types of fighting, from psychic to body blows Letras de cancionesThe troubles I been had that don't nobody know Various puzzle tactics, linguist acrobatics Mingus with the madness, Oolong in the Hydro Flask churning Brain-burning holes in old favorites Of course the rages ignite fires and those consume me, usually Unless the sparkplugs is damp Every night I rub the lamp and make my three wishes Feedback symposium, MinMax most of 'em You know I'm cold with the die roll Like most niggas from Chicago Used to stand downtown in front that Picasso and say "One day, Ferreira gon' ring like that" Well fed, my consolation Well fed, my consolation Well said, my conscience narrating Well said, my conscience narrating Well fed, my consolation Well fed, my consolation Well said, my conscience narrating Well said, my conscience narrating Intuit, breathe, what you feel is what you believe I study life around me From Letras Mania