Dotty, aiming blicks outta stick shift windows
Like we’re hunting ducks, shooting swan pedal-os
Rotting, ditch holds your body
Took the 3s and 6s
You fell like someone stuck sticks in the spokes
They all listened when I spoke
They all boked, went white as bones when we smoked
Remote, furious, cold
How my face is described before they know me
Once they’re here they’re eager to enroll
Saying this guy’s jokes
But just as quick they’ll say this guy’s a joke
Jolting hook slipped, slick shoulder roll
Striking described as slick
Silva in his prime versus Griffin, defying time
I like a good time but there’s a fine line
Between slagging and outright defiance
Disrespect is not tolerated, so don’t even try.
Alchemisland 
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