[FREE] GRISELDA X WESTSIDE GUNN TYPE BEAT - "WAKE UP" 

Bro this beat made me feel immortal… this is perfection for the hungry artist. The epitome of “back tf up off me” energy. I will make this the next many men. Mark my words.

HEADS OR TAILS Do not be afraid to think like me. An ugly sweater is clearly not a statement of taste, but there is a reason why it staves off trash bins and yard sales. You don't have to pretend in it. Nothing to adjust with a stretch or pull. Its four buttons have negotiated a peace treaty with your midnight snacking. And with a color scheme that resembles a vomited up Picasso, complementary items are a moot point. What cufflinks go with kaleidoscope pipe bomb? Every time you sneak your head through with one arm worming through the right sleeve, your game piece is ordered back five paces. That is far enough to question the adrenaline rush over a manufactured fret. Recite the admonitions of current and past titans. Speak it to the audience of origami swans I crafted from your statistical sheets. One of us must budge in this war of inches. Society is much too heavy. I just want you. Tug the rope as hard as you want, I'm not coming over your side. My knees are bent with feet planted like begonias. The closer you get to the line, the more my words make sense. Will you callose your hands over pride? There is no secret compound with matching uniforms. All I offer is an outstretched hand and a neural path way less traveled.

el tiempo se diluye, este huye, esas voces, le dicen tu sigue persigue su anhelo, secretos del cielo sus tonos azules perfumes de amapola, alondras que vuelan, el viento les besa sus alas lozanas le guarda rencor a esos dioses, sufre su destierro, oscuridad y penumbra le alumbra un farol tono herrumbre, obsequio de un viejo de rostro apagado ha pagado pecados, ahora parte cansado, le espera queronte esa barca de cedro tallado, esconde aquello que callan los hombres en esos ojos amargos

Con una blanca, inahalo polvo, una blanca, que bien cocina, soy despertar maestro, como piedras en la esquina esquivar de los recuerdos, se siente seca la cima No busco más problemas si los cien son vitamina, con una sonrisa, carnal, miro lento el tiempo, tiempo que me hará ganar para corre en el viento y sentir La Paz, eyo eyo Siento mil cadenas en el cuello, cargo muertos, como sellos, mi presos por encierro,

this shi is dope as. gonna try writing now

that electric guitar is nastyyyyyy... great work brotha

Hes got it in him He just Dont know how deep to dig Find it for yourself the truth Aint on the leaflet kid Is what they want you To know Not what it really is He want what he Deserves Hes sincerely sick

Cold fam

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