High noon.

High noon:

Now go'n put your hands together like its 12:00
I seldom say that type of shit but on a scale of 1-sick, man i must be off a fifth
Swift, sarob be on your piff
Puff the daddy type of rips
Stuff the caddy and we drift
My glass is half-full, but I still need a refill
Ain't no pascal, long as the keef ill
Abra cadabra hold heat like candelabra
Handle a bra, square opened her up like a parabola
Where the cab brah? i'm kinda loopy
Put cambell in my bum raps, oh now its kinda soupy
Go'n grab a scoop
Me? i'm coolin out to coolie
High
Lace my kickers, woolie thai
Taste of victors, basement bickers
Just to show i'd prove me right
And check the chipped tooth grin
Still wreck the chick you messin with and go'n and flip her friend
God bless the gift to count the riff, it had me at wits end, remastered shit and it still never sounded like joey
Or earl. or chancelor. freelance jams and still b-boy stance
I lance a bitch
Handsome pants' length scant
Scamp skate over scalp and scowl white owl tranced on transits
Pits dampened damned to pits dance off candid fits quart of cancers quick sort the bandit bliss
This just that shit when you're down
But ain't no limit when you're in livin sound

Still a silhouette regretting that cigarette
19 sittin in a pool full of debt
Pipe dreams spilling had my whole future set
Now my vices lean stickin like its vice a lean (vasolene), stricken

Super silly, supercilious cynic
I'll sip the cylinder so long as I can skip to the zenith
I slipped some syllables and spent like half a year of my brilliance on seminal shit i read it like a seminole
Lit, i seen it all
Lip unlimited and lemon aided to see fucks eliminated
Little wait and i'm with manny in the kitchen fly u said respect a nigga vision
Only name-dropping cause i know they'll listen, look
If she ain't fuckin, i'll de-friend her
That shit cray son
White girls sayin n-word, that shit kreayshawn
Spent all last summer on that copy and paste
Ma tried control, c but really all I needed was space
I made this song for julie with the fat booty
For my aunt judy smokin all them packs of newports
For the foolies at the doobie know it's yours truly
Go'n play a nigga, homie, vibe to the chorus

Part II:

Ma wanted me to stay a hooper...but only time i need to tie the loops tighter is when i can't find a producer
Reminding the stupor climbing the stupa chime of the sloping screw ups who grew up and kindled the kind of music you stew up in the coup with a couple loose nuts left numb off of brewses/bruises
I been browsing for boosters to balloon and blow off my bloopers
Man I dropped decent and these gaps in my mouth couldn't have been cuter
Dropped decent and gap in my closet turned to j crew
Gnarly dude, i'm twisted like bob marley's doo. you say you rap but bro you hardly do. sarob all on your safari, don't start me
I'm a good kid with a mean flow, i mean i guess that's partly true
Rhymes is helu, hallelujah. thought it was cliche, but push a tape and watch folks act like they knew ya
Eject you later jack you were laid out all over the fader faded off in like 3 months hope you were savin the paper

Slacker turned backpacker
Blue moon black packer
Soo-woo pill popper (red) all the scab ranters and blogs with bad grammar
Know broads with mad standards, but I bet they Nielsen like I was on soundscanner