(Sam Boice verse)
...
Been had a tat from that needle in the hay stack
Of me with that needle while I'm chilling on the hay stack
Weed enabled keep me paced like race tracks
Not used to saving souls that's stuck up in the hay stack
What is that just face facts
Think we ain't on feel the pitch fork from the hay stack
Words galore
I was born up in that record store
Birds on they first flight was me when I was stepping out the door
Now I sore new heights
Sort of like Iron Mike
Write my own raps
See no need to bite
Used to cyanide so why add fries to appetite
Verbal destruction is my function
Superbad them other dudes McLovin
It's nothing we something
Feel the rap vibe
So you know its smoke one that you bumping we coming
With a thousand bars and running
Hear the drones when they be humming
Dropping bombs when they be buzzing
Taking cover in the caves
Bombs don't discriminate
They burn and disintegrate
Turn hay into ashes
What's cash when you lonely in the mansion
And when you still think that greed's a good companion
Find ya soul before you too old
Use your brain and imaginate and create a world to behold