(Verse)

Presented to you like a bootleg movie
Shaky camera moving, panning to me in my coogi, Chinese captions flashing, to blacken out on tracks is my only duty, smoothly, supplying your groovy, whether you be unruly stuck in the two d or of a higher realm of existence, my style switches to fit with misfits, mystics, new age witches, wiccans and whoever shares the vision, come get ya fixing, pure enough to leave a fiend itching, I don't deprive em of substance when designing these couplets to enliven your function, the funk is pungent as roadkill, for all the heads with no chill wishing that time would hold still though it waits for no man I'm gone prosper, proper, chilling on a glucose hill, the black Rose, dro smoke filling the atmo, no telling where I'll be at yo, laid up on black sand with my hat low, living macro off my phat flow til the day my essence leaves my capsule and I'm born again, a quasar on a skyline with an orange tinge, absorbing blackness, coming back around to bring the mornings in