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letra de bloodsport pt. ii - arthouse fire

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i was a child writing sonnets, acquiring higher knowledge

while you fuccbois couldn’t grow up with hydroponics-

you marks better tuck in your chain and hide your wallets

if not, you put your shine on the line like fiber optics-

(high exalted) the man of the final hour

try to flip the script and i’m climbing behind the counter-

the only way that i drop it’s like eisenhower

cause the radio’s been ticking me off; no geiger counter-

my fire power scorches sh-t like in the torture skit

i can take you out of this world as quick as morpheus-

form a first and send an mc-fly’in back

cause his delorean’s the only one to make a fire track-

i treat a cypher with cats like milf huntin’

those p-ssies can claim that they’re tight till i fist f-ck ‘em-

so keep sniffin’ my lines; my sh-t’s bumpin’

these lips spit out more pies than a brick oven-

- arthouse fire

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