Crawdad Finger To The Sky
Right now’s about that time where I point a finger to the sky,
I stay up late nights and myself why do women have to be so beautiful?
Baby you to die for, I guess I’ll see you at the funeral, huh,
And this is musical bliss,
There’s not a pharmacist in the world that could provide a pill,
That would provide a thrill for a real emcee to kill a mic anything quite like this,
I’ve taken so much Prozac in my life kid,
This should probably be a happy flow,
Got a taste of the roots, plus yall smoke trees,
Lets not get sappy though,
My heart is as big as a bridge on a handicapped mans patio,
My art is as sick as beating Mr. King with a night stick,
And as hard you thinking it is, there’s a part of you that likes this,
It’s in your likeness,
Check it out man,
Humility is an eight letter word,
I can do a lot with eight letters,
I can be terrible I can be gruesome I can be bearable I can be truthful,
But it’s only useful if I spit tight shit,
They told me I’m only as good as my word,
That’s what inspired me to write this
