The Rant (skit)

I can smoke a whole eight in a spliff
 Some call that a problem but I call it a gift
 Hit the clutch then I start to shift
 Turn it up - light my dutch then start to drift
 Lost Angel, Westside rider
 The official, four-oh-five Friday, sound provider
 Underground hitman, hard to hire
 Unsigned death threats written in typewriters
 Poetic, I'm that type of writer
 Got that Don't call me, I'll call you type of fire
 Fake it 'til you make it, you're such a good liar
 Headliners used to not make the flyer
 Four-oh-one K, and I don't mean retire
 Chase loops, still war all day, I'm in denial
 Peace ain't the word to play - it's violence
 I ain't shit good ta say, so here's silence.
...

The Rant (skit)

Young Internet

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