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letra de wax paper envelopes - nightwalker

yeah, clown -ss mothaf-ckas
couldn’t walk a f-cking day over here

[verse 1:]

yo, ayo, ayo
my home is where i’m getting head, that’d be new york
but i’m comfortable down south, like peter north
i’m eating off these beats, i sell enough, my rent is free
so i’ll be banging on a triant <--(?) like a f-cking mpc i'm tired of work, i survive, but it hurts i'm live but i flirt with death until i arrive in the dirt inside of my earth, my cannibalistic ways over power, what society taught me, and in dismays <--(?) i'm lost and found, down to earth, went back from off the ground while you watch sports and down beers, ideas get tossed around walking down the block with a fist full of 'f-ck you's' mic check, one, two, pink shirt, plum shoes you f-cking f-ggots, i'll smack you back to the golden age you underworked, and overpaid, you sold your name you on the radio, but i got doper sh-t how are you gonna claim that you sold records, when you're not the one who wrote the sh-t chorus: [samples: the ex headbanger bad like a f-cker. how many emcees must get this. how many mothef-cking mics, i got the grip. there's more to life, that's why i deal what i feel.] [yeah, voice myself with microphones, dj's and spray paint. f-ckin' f-ggots.] [verse 2:] ayo, ayo i hope you take offense to this, cause this is herb sh-t you won freestyle battle by spittin' written verses you disqualify, you couldn't win a free prize singin' in the mirror, tryin' to squeeze into your levi's heat rise, my practice is doing shows you got a gig next month and you bookin' rehearsal studios my ruthless flows will flood your painted landscapes you made mad tapes but forgot to create a fanbase i used to tag off the staircase and dip then eat an eighth of shrooms and make a face like "this tastes like sh-t" and that'll make me sick, i been sick since 1982 in real life i done more dirt than you claim to i have absolutely no respect for none of you if i kissed your girl in front of you, what the f-ck are you gonna do? peace to those who got respect for themselves and every emcee that can drop a dope record that sells chorus: [samples: the ex headbanger bad like a f-cker. how many emcees must get this. how many mothef-cking mics, i got the grit. there's more to life, that's why i deal what i feel.] [voice myself with microphones, dj's and spray paint.]

- nightwalker

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