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my formula be great, live when i sleep, the dream-scaper
surely not one to need flavor so potent don't need chasers,
morals preach hate and war, of course i teach anger
the scorched corpse of enemies, gifts to the cremator.
mean face adorns this form, venom when i breathe vapor
something like a cross between Bruce Lee and Lee Majors.
but whose he? not just another bookie that needs papers
y'all bout see couple tortoises up against the speed racer.
Hennessy pourin', fuckin up my organs this weed lacer
gone get the storm commin soon as this tree tapers.
cheapskate, more at stake than a clean plate, or
a chance to reform or conform to these green makers.
i kick a free for these free thinkers and great features
gang leaders, spray Ether, make believers out these haters.