This rap shit's a racket you get brackish with practice.
I wanna stop, but the fact is; well; crack kills so..
I'm back in the attic; workin' on tactics; sixteen bars;
on the hat imma smash it; The way I been actin tragic;
a little bit a structure and I'm back; bumpin' like magic;
pullin' rabbits out o' hats an' throwin' axes like a savage;
this is only line seven but I reckon it's the baddest if not;
not stressin' nothin which is somethin' line eight is madness,
line nine is a fine piece of time imma grab it, and dab it;
pretend it's a friend because this is line ten, and I have none,
but fuck friends unless you're fuck friends I'm in let's hit it till;
twelve; I'm not one to dwell come out your shell I've nothin to sell.
No way to hurt me this shit aint a hotel so I'm blurting my thirteenth;
I might need to work on my wording; this leaves two lines left; damn.
My vision is blurry; I'm fixin' to hurry, but I know I might as well chill
I'm over the hill; switchin' schemes; cuz gettin' to sixteen is no big deal.