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Indigo
'A long flat meadow. Golden. You can see off in the distance, there's a treeline of pines, far away. Blue-purple in color.'
Red：
The dry throat pyro, pyroclastic flow
So fantastic, hold MIC check dynastic mojo
See life in slow mo
When he's on the promo, be like where'd the hour hand go?
Power in the sands of the sour lands, scandal
'Golden'
Power in the sands of the sour lands, scandal
Quick get grip, a handle
A fan to the mantle
Man in my sandals
Scanning what to ban, fold, can and cancel
Stance like a dance with death, deep breath, ramble
On and on and on and on
Dawning on a don and conning cats to pass the baton
Cation V cats that rap bygones
Pate straight sickly like '68 Saigon
Lick thee under the nylon
File in, get on witchya, get gone witchya
I could scribe lines that describe dimes all the time
Or by sunrise have five of-all-time type rhymes
You decide, just don't speak here
Unwind and get your mind synchronized like leap year
Vibes run deep here
Sheer will power doesn't get paid by the hour
Trade sleep for peak-tier
At it till they are addicts
Adding adages adlib till he's added to the attic
All these blasted kids getting blasted
I'm on the fast track for mad stacks, of my raps and
Step to my snaps - snap yo mamma's back kid
Dopeness is crack kid
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That's brass tax kid
LEM:
I let it trickle down the grapevine
Don't desecrate these great minds
Better pray you have the gauntlets
Prepare to pout, an upset like Sozin's Comet
Vomit up these sonnets
What a prophet ready to profit
Don't mess with him man he's nauseas
BK stock the pockets for now
You fled, and I scrapped up like General Zhao
Poseidon ain't no match for the gods of flows
Unexpected novice Joes kicking down the closet doors
This isn't strong arm tactics
Use yah cranium, tougher than titanium
Uh
Soon to be grabbing grips whip-less with a script encrypted hit list
Don't worry - winters over; burning off yah mittens
Scribbling on my writtens
Twizzle with a kiddo, fox
Harder than splitting rocks, barter for his riddles docs
Truth be spilled, of course he force the gizmo to rock
A spring chicken, grinning tip-toeing in the kitchen, leaving the seat up when I was pissing
'Sorry my son, he's just a kid, he doesn't know what he's doing'
Ha, yo
Grotesque grimaces, he walks scotch free
Bona fide promise guys, trying to monopolize
Red. looks like we got foes in tides
How the fuck this world blind with open eyes?
'Other than that, I got nothing'
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