Текст песни Prisms - Kill Bill: The Rapper

Boy this Glock is cocked and ready to pop up on another hoe
Hollow points will have your bitch ass knocking on the devil′s door

Yo...
I'm Majin Buu up off the juice; just let me talk to you
You cross my mind from time to time, but what′s it costed you?
I'm stuck inside the prisms of this indica, I'm in the cut
I′m feeling anxious
Roll it up and thank it

But I wonder if she thinks about me?
Thinks when she drinks about me?
And I don′t know the answers
Walk with lady luck as I beg to hold her hand first

Ayo, feelings are cancerous
Cannabis sandwiched in a damn thick manuscript
And I'm just trying to McMahon the shit
Big boss
Grow a pair (pear) I′m Rick Ross
Riding til the shift's off
"Don′t fuck this up", thank you for the tip, boss
Creeping out the sticks, ma
Feeling kind of big, boy
Big and tall. I'm sick of stalling hitting margin ends
Feeling part carcass, smart artist with an awkward trend

Hard Benjamins spent on carcinogens
Demons crawling out my mouth; I′m talcumed out
Fresh cut with a couple bad bitches in the front seat
If my conscious were personified, I bet it'd probably punch me

Yo, why you telling lies for?
Catch me by the dime store listening to Grindcore
I need bread? I rhyme more
If only I would try more...

It's yours, isn′t it?