Noon Chuckas - Gangrene

The pen is still soiled

I spill that oil like Pennzoil

Then peel you like tin foil

The game has been spoiled

Call up that temp lawyer

Blame it on the sanity so they could get help for you

I play these bars over that Dorner

That lost soldier, that sober

That ogre, that boss told you 'It's over,' then dog, it’s over

Kid keep the nines with the Cobra, that Sly nigga Stallone’d ya

That Rock and Roll Hall of Fame material after I stone ya

You a loner, I specialize in aromas

I let 'em sniff what I roll up, a glimpse of that California

Then put 'em in that deep level of a coma

They rolling up all that zona, see, y’all don’t want me to chauffeur

See, y’all don’t want me to show or come and fuck up your sofa

Bunch of little crumbs like I was dumping a toaster

Bunch of fucking bums chill when y’all heads post up

Before y’all roast up, we’ll be there to get that Hope cut

Ayo, hold up

Sit yo' bitch ass down

Count this right here

Get money, fuck bitches, turn knobs, touch switches

While I cut pies and serve dishes

Smell the scent from the kitchen, I’m on a mission

Keep the low from the toaster oven until it crispin'

Play the door while I perform, you collect admission

Needles skipping, the loop’s on repetition

Palms itching, stand on the mound of dirt like a pitcher

While I’m rubbing my money grip, it’s for friction

It’s the bumbaclot clot rasta caucasian blowing wax

Limbs relax like a tropical vacation

See me in the public, same on the mini-cam

Compose Doctor No, Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam

Rhythm and Blues Brothers

Flow through the gutter like used rubbers

Chain swinging like some Noon Chuckas

I’m a criminal advocate, money magnet

Saran wrap the work, you looking comfortable bagging it

Under pressure, I’m a survivor

I could throw 'em a time or let 'em expire

Rocking the fresh J’s, white T attire

With dirty Levis, nobody flier

They must have wings to achieve getting higher

Remember, y’all the customers and we the suppliers

'Cause we distributing that high to the clients with an institute

We teaching the pilots how to fly it

See us broken down into a science, read the signs

It said it’s full of chemicals inside it

Like cooking got it bubbling and frying

And it’s only trouble 'cause you niggas know it’s death defying

I bare hand scrap, trying rumble with a lion

And I’m an animal, who the fuck you eyeing?

'Cause you know we ain’t buying it, we supplying it

Sending ships pirating while they rioting

Aargh!