FORREST:
Forty international
Ferocious flow fantastical
Grammatical, words inflate like dirigibles
In capital offense to non believers and sense
Their tense and choose to bid their rage at our expense
Rinse repeat
We’re just looking out for something to hold, something to own
Something to show for these rhymes, but not dough though
Because we’ve been here before, we didn’t make a dime then but we went on with the show
Rinse repeat
Topics don’t matter we cover the base
Escalate
Our verses flow like they have no weight
Isolate the verbiage carefully, the style first rate
Indeed
Deliver the flow as designated by fate

CHESTERFIELD “XPLICIT” HARRINGTON:
Michael Moore, Columbus flying high with M. Commodore
You swore that I would never leave the bar with whores
In your dreams! That never made sense!
With your girl laying behind me, sleeping undressed and out of breath
Drop top to the industrial spot
Look hot! Why not?
I prefer chicks with a big back drop
Tossing pennies out the 3-1-1
Dropping games to blame has you stricken with the psychic plague
There’s a hurricane coming so get on your knees
Suck me like a tax to collect all my payments and fees
Don’t turn your head baby, “just a little longer” is the norm
There’s a hot liquid shooting from the eye of my storm!

B-LUSH:
Do you really have what it takes?
Are you ready for plans you made?
Make sure you know there’s no mistaken
The Frames have reawakened!

WYATT:
Swinging on elephant tusks
Loopty loop
And then a pickup truck
It’s the time of the month that I’m in no pain
No frame of mind
In the blink of an eye
I’m what happens when those fucking doves cry
And it’s a sad state living off paper plates
The telephone books you mistake for steaks
I’m well done
In a minute, if you can imagine it
I invent it with no patents pending
The story ending where it begun on the elephant’s back
Like a Dora the Explorer
On Nick Jr. rerun
In a brown room and a Beta 58
A track by a Raleigh crew
With a touch of 9:58

SCURVY D:
No one ever told me growing up won’t be breezy
Learned a lot of lessons not covered in degrees
Peeping mad cheese, but passing on the greed
My band of brothers is all i really need
My tribe, designed to tantalize your mind
Hit you from the blind side
Focus on the timeline
Forrest rhyme stopping on a dime
Words precise, cut you every time
Wyatt-Wyatt you know he’s on the track
A cyborg’s got my back!
What you know about that?
Last but never least, the savvy Anthony
Architect to the dream
Running scams, running schemes

POODY:
Loose leafs blowing in my smoke
Scraping at the concrete at the stroke of 4am
Better lock up your daughter’s drawers
Cause Forty’s on the stroll with baited lures
Over microphones through the speakers to the lobes
Titillating anyone who listens to the skin and bones
Rolling deep, as low as my knees
That don’t bend backward to smile and please
Forty Frames, we ain’t playing lame ducks!
Subverting with sedition beats against the rule of dumb fucks
So watch the road, cause we often roam
From villages to cities off the prod of bong smoke

B-LUSH:
Do you really have what it takes?
Are you ready for plans you made?
Make sure you know there’s no mistaken
The Frames have reawakened!

DJ DIZZUMP:
Better put your boots on, zip that fucking coat up
Straight to the sloppy, about to get fucking tore up
Better step this way hoss, you’re waking the boss up
Like e-dash say, it’s all about the dipping sauce
Squared up to the mic, going to LOL, you’re a preaching
When that mountain shows up, peaks douches to fill-in
I’ll lead the way, show the path you’ve been seeking
Crest the top, yeah-yeah you’ll see me flying with demons
I’ll hold them at bay, I’ll keep them behind you
Empty net, don’t deke, just put the fucking shot in
Look back at the past, but keep that future golden
Rinse repeat
Fuego lyrics into fucking molten

ANTHONY:
Uh what you want?
You want it? You fucking got it!
We be slitting bitches throats
Throwing heads underneath our overcoats
Overdose
Wake up, uh, you got some blow on your nose
Seismic waves shock, Mr. Clean drops his mop
Like “Hoo-rah! We go straight through you!”
While Dr. Buttercup’s got 8 ways to do you
If you put a gun in my fucking hand - I will shoot it!
Strap some Air Penny’s on my fucking feets - I will do it!
What you really trying to do to me? Murder Anthony?
When you’re fucking with the safety and shooting aimlessly?
I’ll be ready with a machete and two dozen molotovs
A mili, and ideally, a mother fucking sawed-off
Uh