puttin it to your one-trick ribcage alto-cirrus swamp-style for the full self-eating snake.
cadre
or
the gump's shorts
MF: c'mon -- stay! i wrote this rhyme on my bornday! remind me of the same style i flipped on "Hey!" ..yikes! who can fuck with the likes of onesuch who score touchdowns and spike mikes? metal grill with many styles-- better still: feel it like # 26 on the roulette wheel, and deal, and run rings around rhymers and run rings like number-runners who's old-timers... tom shimura: i can't even describe you, so ain't even gon' try—mm-hmm. making hell of emcee-asias--now this I dont dispute-- but you knew you knew lyrics born was a ripped off note sheet of a hundred and you scrape the paint off your bumpers making sure you beat the buzzer making sure Lyrics Born came out his mother's stomach covered with the lyrics that kill-- no bumper, right? cuz mo'fucka: i know you can make colors rhyme and have the whole goddamn planet yelling “UNCLE!†at you and even still take the time big up little as-- can you imagine?-- big up Asia Born; this little bottle… Or that you would even be lightly concerned with little, little words that you would tuggin’ the line, pullin' the kind of lyrics out my mouth that make me “Big-Bad-Tom-takin'-kids'-legs-home-you-can't-even-pack-a- sliver-roachâ€: you know-- that type shit. And then watch me wreck this stage, boy like I got your daddy's style hangin' around my waist. and then watch me forget… the way… good lyrics taste, thinkin' I just ain't little rabbit eyes in your heart Man, cuz if I thought it was just “Lyrics Born that made lyrics born, lyrics born,†and then suddenly I can't do no more-- I'd be like: “Do you remember me? No, Asia†and “you used to play my record on the way to the paper…â€
suburbanites with privilege and an inkling enough of some kind of social consciousness to be able to come up with ingenious new ideas for skateboards like this and get away with it ( well almost... ):