Drop Em

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
Peace to Vic Spencer
Yeah
I’m from the city where they’ll kill you if you’re on something
Free slave made a dash from the open dungeon
Inhale, gave my ex hell
I’m highed up and she wired up
Cause I never gave the bitch my number to my next cell
Still I exhale the grand national
Capital is how you best spell the name
I’m the shit folding paper
Like origami in a porta-potty counting change
Doctor said [?] insane, lost my marbles
[?] tocuh cargo, shell ‘em like escargot
It’s more than rap
It’s switching up to get my quarter back with pocket change
Flow magnificent, I’m ignorant
Spit nonfiction with such conviction [?]
I get busy light my phone off
You don’t wanna tussle with the black Nikita Koloff, you need Zoloft
My block’ll burn souls off
Twist my own blunts, these clowns roll with soft
Passionate pen, back at it again
Travel and spend my salary ends
Madden my kin, machine guns at that same back
Your friends put that battery in
I grab the pad and the pen
And rock to rep my nigga up
Now let the madness begin

[Verse 2: Vic Spencer]
Everything is great when you don’t give a shit
When you actually got some moments and you live for it
Pull my dick out in public, watch it piss you off
If your brain is empty I can give you thoughts
Vic Spencer is wack
When you say that shit you always go behind my back
When niggas used to beg me to get on a track
I was you nigga’s only supporter at one point that’s fact
Niggas love salt but I wanted to screw pepper
How many blondes does it take to change a diaper?
Ask Hugh Hefner
You niggas kill me with your pimip stories
The sun don’t shine and the eclipses bore me
Take it from a rapper that doesn’t give a shit
I got two kids so I ain’t saving shit
Marijuana’s a gateway drug
A gateway to what, the fridge?
Nigga I’m on my way to that shit
What’s the difference between a woman and a bad joke?
Nothing really that was a bad joke
But shit I’m an asshole
Chicago hates me, so I earned the departure
Replacing my chicks lipstick with permanent marker
Sweet ass nigga add lemon spray to crack dinner plates
I challenge a nigga in a wheelchair to a swimming race
I can’t swim, I break limbs to pieces
I ain’t them, but I create phlegm from the [?]
And that’s for real, I have yet to kill
But don’t cont me out, 17 fans gonna round it out
At your wooden roundtable
I’m cool in this cubicle
When I die I don’t wanna see you at my funeral
I wrote this shit waiting on my daughter’s clothes to dry
I write like Martin Luther King (Word)
I’m supposed to die (Damn)
I’m striking a nerve deep
And records about justice are putting me to sleep
Snoring, boring, exploring
Hit shit like Chuck Norris, soaring
In the sky nigga I’m an astronaut
I blast the Glock, fuck with V-I-C I’ll let your ass rot