extend

Said the name of the game is to spit what I think and I never once claimed that my shit don't stink and nobody knows me when I go uptown cause I'm probably not real. I'm just a verbal now. I'll pull my rhymes right out of your lost and found so I got a big bag and that's just like Charlie Brown and when you scream, I won't make a sound I'll leave this country trade my 4 pounds. I'll spike a rose in the mud on the Brink because I always always come back like my name is bringing more flow than invaders's kitchen sink. You can't even even think my name before you blink and no, I don't have anything spelled across my wrist, but I'll tag funny pictures all up on your bricks and now I need to go cause I'm all out of time. Just remember I threw this down for the 419.