F64

The booth wasn't new to him
Watch what I do to him
Holy water flows like I swam from Jerusalem
The bishop had the juice for him
I came and diluted them
Mixed the recipe and broke bread like the eucharist
They say I should be civilised
But out there, they are heavily criticised
You should be grateful I'm real and I spit my life
So fuck if I flip punk or if I flip white
And I'm still gripping knives
But without sin and lowblows, I got that Riddick Bowe flow
That's benefit cold flows
You ain't spittin' snow globes, no biker
Speed but don't stall it
Cause I'm the type to ride 'till I die
I won't walk it
The mad scientist
I'm back in the lab
My formula's the pen and I create the method with pads
Now add H2O flows plus the beat
You don't know subtractions
Then that will cause a chemical reaction
Action, get the picture
Closed caption
Attraction
Smooth criminal, Mike Jackson
I'm that fly, think I stepped out of the spaceship
Extraterrestrial with Pluto on the bracelet
My third eye's open, no need for binoculars
Bullseye, when I aim the flame from kilometres
I'll blow your oesophagus
Me, my tre pound ain't monogamous
I lay down the biggest hippopotamus
I'm a rebel so they call me Benny Blanco
From Carlito's way, I took the left to Toronto
Oh, I bang hammers like a bongo
Accelerate and didn't stop like OJ's bronco
Dress code's debonair
My swag's up fly boy, no feathers here
But I still shot the O over the hemisphere
Straight to Macy's, cop Ralph Lauren tennis gear
No Floetry, fam I spit poetry
Langston Hughes when I rap but I flow on beats
Over the years, they try slander my name
But I carry Tottenham on my back
I can harbour the screen
I'm lyrically athletic, I ain't running outta breath
When I run tracks, it's just a workout for my legs
Rocky to training, me and Balboa on the steps
Spit heavyweight bars like I'm working on my chest
I got the best drugs, 9 out of 10 dubs
That's why they come for 2 white 1 brown, N Dubz
Got 'em screaming nanana when they faze you
All follow along when I cook it like baker
I buy the Barra', Champs no Lager
I'm done with the red, I'm on my black stripe Prada
From heaven, I will raise hell
The chain keeps the Lord in me
In these true religions, even Christians adore me
I'm low on sugar darg, the roads say I'm diabetic
I got the insulin for sweet boys that disrespect it
The definition of bittersweet symphony
The type to turn sour if it's sweet like a symphony