TIMS BEATS WAT

I'm in a soundproof booth without a roof, drunk off 180 proof vodka with docter Ruth, we in the vocal room inhalin magic markers, sitting the dark lightin our blunts with sparklers... we got my man Pacewon behind the boards, because we tied the engineer without ripcords, Bizzares in tha lobby with the Beatles, smokin bowls, pokin holes in his veins with derty needles... we get all doped up from poppin uppers, and run a train on Foxy Brown without rubbers, smokin homegrown drugs, that's why you can barely tell what the fuck we're saying like Bone Thugs... hittin blunts till my lungs get too much smoke, and take one more short toke, before I snort coke, shit, I been doin lines all day, my minds all played from smelling Pine Sol spray... What, no hold up hold up hold up, smokin laced weed wrapped up in a fruit roll up, my lungs are all swol up, about to bust open, I'm just hopin, I don't die from snortin crushed Motrin...