a french kiss chicks lock lips Coming from the deep black like the Loch Ness Now bring apocalypse like the heart of darkness It's like the heart of the artist become a target Pop music is the black market Recently we witness bizarre
this audio bizarre, noone knows who you are No descendents of Ham, no babies are taught Leave the black in the cold and the cold in the bar Like a shifted
it him and those twenty inch rims, splittin the tar? An amazon woman from the stripbar God, it varies, Halley Berry, stars eatin hard cherries This world is bizarre
, we here We ain't goin' nowhere Ask yourself, do you know what beef is? Ha ha ha ha ha, check out this bizarre Rapper style used by me, the B.I.G. I
get up on it, treat a bitch like a blunt, hit, hit, pass head on my dick 'till she get whiplash fuck it I'm cold, some bitches is colder runnin' game
the black brick Boss ballin' been breakin' bread n biquets bre And Beautiful biancas, bideos, 'n bangas with big B Now before brilliancs, blessed to be buildin it Best in this bario, bane, 'n bizarre
don't learn, I ain't concerned by far Spit six bars like gem-star, stitches and scars Niggaz dry snitchin', yo, they intuition bizarre Picture me starved
Panape a week before we arrived and there was a strong excitement around the island as people crowded around the few sets. Then the day after we arrived, in a bizarre
spraying on my face Hands are punctured in defense Brutally dismembered Parts are growing cold A natural high achieved by death Perverted and twisted Bizarre
the weird, into the bizarre, bizarre Feeling changed, a different man, slowing down, This journey's gone into the bizarre, my doom is real, Into the bizarre, bizarre
Yeah (To da break of dawn) All my sex involved as we get funky Rhymes so bizarre everybody knows When it come to a situation like this Little more effects
stairin' down on me right now show me the path So I know that havin' my people can close the gaps Me, daily I spar as I tour this world bizarre I've
shot, hit me with your best shot. Come on hit me with my best, Come on hit me with my best Come on hit me with my best Verse 1 [Bizarre]: Proof died
Whole lot of Whole lot of chumps turning hard on the radio The legends, go on back, my style is bizarre Whole lot of chumps turning hard on the radio
Edith Sitwell giving readings 14 Moscow Road Osbert's giving champagne parties Sachie's got a cold Gertrude's hanging pictures Alice making tea Me, I
out before the Po Po come bust the show Sobered up, knew it was beef, but over what? Been in the cut, escapin' these streets, they cold as fuck Tuck
You reach your goals in your comfy old rolls Or in one of your Mercedeses Far, very far off the beam are we Quaint and bizarre as a team are we Two
[Verse 1 - Bizarre:] Who died, what happened? Marshall stopped rappin' I guess that makes me the captain, hit the matress, pistol packin' sick assassin