I could tell you bout the summit But then you'd have to plummet What good is wisdom found If you have to dumb it down? Come on now Nose runny, clothes bummy They used to call this crummy style Used to say the clothes were ill fit Now they say, "that's an ill fit" If the game is a cow, I came to milk it Like your mother's utters, ain't like these other suckers You know the name, it's no other, flow butter the biscuits Chillin with a gutter full of misfits Only time he break a sweat is with Ms. Fit Angel with hellish intents Nothing to hide, but I'm riding in tints One with nature like I live in tents When I feel like it, reinvent the wheel, driving With no hands, look mom Here come the planted, stuck bombs Stand too close, wind up with hook arms
