3pm lyrics

I ignite a fire to a bowl of Apple Jacks. Drive right inside the cold and grab a match. Having a glass of Snapple, I grapple with facsimiles. Like facts that are similar to me. Rap like a centipede., half pint of Listerine. Black out of history for trying get at every rhyme spit by me. Hock spit on milliseconds past. Get your sh*t together fast or never get cash. Having a blast, blacking on serial killing. I appear to be near to the feeling of beer in a synagogue. My influence and your mind don't get along. Rhinestone cinema, cowboys, listen up! How about I deploy my choice of enema to my enemies? When my trigger squeeze, hope y__ n______ bleed (fill it in). And feel it, indeed. Kill them for feeling, but not feeling me

Can you believe it? I just left 3 6 (look at the time). Been a minute, but I can and needed to. Beat a Beetlejuice, being booted with The Beatles. Blunts made of Euros, the root of evil, steaming. You can see a demon even when you're in prayer, living in mid-air. Dare superstition to get scared. Sit prepared, boldly stepping over boundaries nobody set. But get what you forget. And re-go over your ovary-collecting sound, baby-making music. Straight abusing the c*mulative stupidness. Excuse me, miss? You better stop the screaming. Exorcise your demons, but let's try to be decent. No? Aight, bet. Mic check! The mic tight I ain't start getting hype yet. My guess? My words are too much to digest. So why don't I not stop and rest? Simple is the mission to riddle the intuition of children, building their credibility into their never-ability. Takes skill to stay still and straight, yeah. But I make them break deals when I make them say ____. I know. Grab a blanket, though. So old and gangsta with my ancient flow. You feel special because it seems scripted. But my cereal is finished and I didn't mean to break the bowl