These cats is just askin to get they asses handed to them
I'll make time witcha girl, f*ck up ya world in the interim
I sent to them an offer that they cannot refuse
With my trues, yes indeed, and the new ones, too
I blew on through from 612 to 212
I check my area like De La do
Suckas come around me tryna rhyme and shit
But I don't think they really know just what time it is
It's time for intimate, intricate 'illoquies shatterin
Images bled by the brains that been battered in
Only enough to keep climbin the ladder is
Not how I want to live
But I got nothin to show for the love
And it's all fallin down on my head from above
And I'm tryin hard not to be stubborn, but what's
In the mouth of a horse with gifts
Whether I kick it fast or slow, you bastards know I be the nicest
Clappin for a wack-ass show is cashed, my flow is priceless
Go on and getcha fame, try and getcha little name
But you f*ckin up the game like Archer does to ISIS
I've saved some money from the fact that I ain't got kids
But just enough that I can't say that I ain't got shit
And I was just kiddin when I said I'm pickin pockets
But please believe me when I tell you I am not rich
But I'm rippin this shit and just spittin ridiculous
Flippin the script on illiterate idiots
Thicken the scripture, don't fit the description of
Simperin simpletons, simply the sickest, kids
When I hit the stage, y'all gonna remember it
I blow that shit up like the date was November 5th
Intermission (Nov. 5th) Video (MV)
Tom Swifty - Intermission (Nov. 5th) Lyrics
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These cats is just askin to get they asses handed to them
I'll make time witcha girl, f*ck up ya world in the interim
I sent to them an offer that they cannot refuse
With my trues, yes indeed, and the new ones, too
I blew on through from 612 to 212
I check my area like De La do
Suckas come around me tryna rhyme and shit
But I don't think they really know just what time it is
It's time for intimate, intricate 'illoquies shatterin
Images bled by the brains that been battered in
Only enough to keep climbin the ladder is
Not how I want to live
But I got nothin to show for the love
And it's all fallin down on my head from above
And I'm tryin hard not to be stubborn, but what's
In the mouth of a horse with gifts
Whether I kick it fast or slow, you bastards know I be the nicest
Clappin for a wack-ass show is cashed, my flow is priceless
Go on and getcha fame, try and getcha little name
But you f*ckin up the game like Archer does to ISIS
I've saved some money from the fact that I ain't got kids
But just enough that I can't say that I ain't got shit
And I was just kiddin when I said I'm pickin pockets
But please believe me when I tell you I am not rich
But I'm rippin this shit and just spittin ridiculous
Flippin the script on illiterate idiots
Thicken the scripture, don't fit the description of
Simperin simpletons, simply the sickest, kids
When I hit the stage, y'all gonna remember it
I blow that shit up like the date was November 5th
I'll make time witcha girl, f*ck up ya world in the interim
I sent to them an offer that they cannot refuse
With my trues, yes indeed, and the new ones, too
I blew on through from 612 to 212
I check my area like De La do
Suckas come around me tryna rhyme and shit
But I don't think they really know just what time it is
It's time for intimate, intricate 'illoquies shatterin
Images bled by the brains that been battered in
Only enough to keep climbin the ladder is
Not how I want to live
But I got nothin to show for the love
And it's all fallin down on my head from above
And I'm tryin hard not to be stubborn, but what's
In the mouth of a horse with gifts
Whether I kick it fast or slow, you bastards know I be the nicest
Clappin for a wack-ass show is cashed, my flow is priceless
Go on and getcha fame, try and getcha little name
But you f*ckin up the game like Archer does to ISIS
I've saved some money from the fact that I ain't got kids
But just enough that I can't say that I ain't got shit
And I was just kiddin when I said I'm pickin pockets
But please believe me when I tell you I am not rich
But I'm rippin this shit and just spittin ridiculous
Flippin the script on illiterate idiots
Thicken the scripture, don't fit the description of
Simperin simpletons, simply the sickest, kids
When I hit the stage, y'all gonna remember it
I blow that shit up like the date was November 5th
Writer: Ezra Stead
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid