(claude s.) A wrinkled photo on the wall Tells things that came before it went away Even all the ghosts inside Hazy as can be, leave traces of who we
Превод: Било шта Бокс. Свестан.
guilty like the flight went down And my cellphone wasn't on airplane mode Soy-based newsprint, black market food stamps Poison in the Pete moss, suffocated beat box
sky, I search for the mote in my brother's eye beneath the pence... a time of blunt instruments. Still uncertain when I've woken or what constitutes a conscious
cocaine My moms used to smoke weed with her friends when I was eight Smoked weed when I was twelve, sold weed at fourteen Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity Conscious
your drink One reason 'round you like a rollerskate and rink Hit the bar with my whistle with a B-52 On the rocks with a kick to knock you out the box
(feat. D12, D-Elite) "You Have Agreed, Not To Try This At Home. Anything Else" [Proof] Who am I? I'm a basterd, I stolen off ya and blast at ya Smokin
do cocaine My moms used to smoke weed with her friends when I was eight Smoked weed when I was twelve, sold weed at fourteen Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity Conscious
I only listen to shit, that's good for my health like styles of beyond, Apathy and Celph 4-zone, Sandman, JaySon plus Jay-Z, anything old and rock n'
