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letra de freestyle (rotten apple dreams) - hardtimes records

hardtimes records ft. war bixby – “freestyle (rotten apple dreams)”
[emcee(s): war bixby]
[producer(s): [?]]

[verse 1: war bixby]
yo, the streets’ll turn you to
an animal, biomechanical, highly flammable
war bix sick fist the size of a cannonball
snuff film footage—if you scared, turn the camera off
i’m hotter than the desert, the tolerance of a leopard
the sheep shepherd. every footstep’s my best effort
i’m god-protected and my arrival has been destined
back from the religious cult. even scientists’ll question
i’m the revival of the essence, a hundred-and-twenty lessons
reflection of god’s blessing and spark the smith & wesson
the angel an essential, welcome you to my dimension
your dirty-faced henchman. feel the bars that i’m benching
i’ll write to clear the tension. you’re just screaming for attention like
you’re standing at the bar. well, i’m the bartender blending
war’s a loaded mac-11. we’re living in armageddon, and
n-gg-s die. baby-born, don’t get caught without your weapon
we’ll be planning for your funeral and cancelling your wedding
while your family is threatened like the life of john lennon
you’re softer than john legend. your career’s a f-cking lemon
you can’t stand in the fire, walk the shoes that i bled in
i cried in the krylon. hear the cries that i’m begging
i’m half past seven on a highway to heaven
getting money with my brethren. you a crumb-sn-tching peasant
see, my gift is the present. everybody stops dressing. i’m
the future. you’re the past and don’t exist in the present
so you better make penance or shine like diamonds in a pendant
moonshine liquor—one shot’ll open your appendix
my sk!lls are tremendous, my success is so endless
suck my disc volume 1 downloaded ‘cause i sent it
f-ck you—i meant it with god as my witness. like
cheese, like it’s christmas, everybody get lifted
i’ll melt you like hershey’s kisses. i’m eating you—do the dishes
you f-cking with dirty b-tches, jerking off to dirty pictures
every verse i write scriptures. my name is: top twisted
the sp-ce with the critters. whole team gets the jitters, turn
your confidence in quitters, turn your face into a zipper
you fall in love with strippers. y’all some b-tchmade n-gg-s
i’ll switchblade-fillet. i’m a butcher with your liver. middle
finger to the world—f-ck you! i’m out, n-gg-

- hardtimes records

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