|
|
 | ... and in a few more years I'll dip out this dead rock / as Jizzle Chrizzle, my only true homie, stops my clock / it'll be f_ckin' sick as I glide through the clouds / never made use of my dick at all and I'm proud / and if you perchance get the chance to see me / as the ... | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| ... one true God re-abducts my body / you'll see too a million doves as they form a dollar sign / and a mic to let the living know the title was mine / I was Creation's greatest rapper, JC's most divinest MC / so spell my name right when you write my biography | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| That's pretty f_ckin' cold. | |
|
| Ice cold, my son. | |
|
|
|
|
|
