[verse 1 - TBone] (+ Bon Mot)

It's TBone (and Bon Mot)
Beats booming (bombs dropped)
Speak fluent (non-stop)
Teach truth upon blocks (of stone)

With poems, that build from the ground up
Found the lost tossed aside now it's time to round up
Form up - swarm stuff, aligned in formation
Ask us to repeat if you don't get the information
I'll admit we kept you waiting, we're moving on a planned route
Scanning to expand out, jamming, demand sprouts
Hands out, we'll give you some free shit
The knowledge is available you just must seek it
Take out wack selections whenever I see fit
Equip my beat with a sweet kick and heat spit
212 degrees farenheit
All we need is speakers and a pair of mics
On point, sharper than a pairing knife
Barking all the jargon spitting shit that makes you very hype

[verse 2 - Bon Mot]

Spitting quick to get shit like a nun's wrath
It ain't tight I just like it when my gums flap
Pull back, hipster swag the dunce cap
Tongue lash, don't need a dick to make you cunts clap
Dumb cats run trap because it's frontin
I'll talk about anything from everything to nothing
Stack scratch without a lab above my oven
If they dropping shit, I'm spitting draino through the plumbing
Your foundation is complacency in music
Take your propaganda and replace it with my bullshit
The difference is I'm spitting from a pulpit
Bon Mot is holier than thou like a prude is
When I put out, I know it's rushed
You say oh that's nice, that's real polite, your cheeks are flushed
You say it's the drinks but I ain't ever seen your cup
So I swallow up the Dutch and throttle bottles like a clutch
Then wonder why it is I always seem to do that
Walking home I bum a half a pack like a hood rat
Spend nights working on a version of a new track
Wishing I was better at the only thing I'm good at
With perfection comes practice
Wackness is determined by how dope you're acting
Need confessions like I need lessons on hat tricks
I figure by my third work I'll prolly be bat shit