Win Or Lose You Lose - Beans

Will cigarettes be the death of me?

Lungs screaming, happy emphysema

Smoke when I’m depressed, helps relieve stress

A part-time father, a baby’s mother can’t be bothered

Couldn’t be the man she need of me

She can be frivolous

So hope rest in the eyes of our daughter

Sanura, I’m a stranger in her aura

A clogged artery, a severed leg

Running with scissors to keep his sanity

An MC, a pen for hire writer

Never followed where the crowd went

A misunderstood presence

Too much future for this present

Personify fresh

Evident when I invent

How you react?

You tip your hat

If not, break my arm and pat myself on the back

Unprecendented to my old click, resented

So I’m ghost, gone, moved on

Not only my aesthetics apply

It’s all about--

Janet and Bob’s 1st born 71, 3rd July

Run like a tear to the eye

Go and tell 'em you don’t wanna

He bring heat to the beat

Wearing a fleece in a sauna

See that kid?

Why would you wanna?

He bring heat to the beat

Wearing a fleece in a sauna

Win or lose you lose

You don’t wanna

He bring heat to the beat

Wearing a fleece in a sauna

See that kid?

Why would you wanna?

He bring heat to the beat

Wearing a fleece in a sauna

Haunt the hallow dancing brick

My narrow ass I wiggle for change

Flamboyant, my attire impress in front of a crowd

Drunk vomit and pee

Pull out my Diddy

Baby batter splatter on wax

Glistens like semen spreading my unborns on her back

Judy Garland click my heels and make it happen

In contrast, you give the fans what they want

When they ask they money back

Elated, time to inhale the coffin nail

We celebrated, after my mic evaporated

My time is coming, what y’all waiting for?

I’ve arrived, sorry I got delayed

Perfectionist, I say no rhyme before it’s time

Worldwide

Warp’s the label that enables my unstable

To disable your turntable fables

Captured on tape

Yet the prose remain fluid and unaffected by shape

No rules

A roof with no walls

I walk in front, never amongst you

Fleeting fumes in the flame of fame

Ass burping, flapping your lips

Flatulence, bloated on bland

Like eating cardboard

For every one vapid MC

There will be 3 heard

Collectively placing their hands

In a rotating fan screaming