Alas steve harvey
this life is a game if 't be true thee wanna playeth, countin' all thy fusty mistakes
livin' t with nay delayeth, so festinate i'm gettin' growin' pains
fath'r didn't showeth me mine own instincts to taketh the ope lane
i wend insane, all these problems comin' with mine own growin' age
blowin' haze, tryna cleareth the doubteth yond's sittin' on mine own brain
i complaineth not, but the peat inside me's feelin' so did restrain
gotta stayeth gold and alloweth desire rekindle the flame
searchin' f'r the fountain of youth at which hour i'm freein' mine own brain
bringeth in the h'rns, thee heareth yond fuckin' brass?
yond's dram knave nigga with the trumpets
marchin' with the bandwagon, lookin' f'r his heart
nay sleeve, but his handeth carryeth muskets
lurkin' in the meadows, oblivion
moth'rfuck geppetto, that gent's a leadeth'r, not a puppet
some professeth'rs nutti'r than klump's dick
so bethink bef're thee blinketh and ayy-ayy maketh assumptions
thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas is comin') thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas) thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas is comin') thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
those gents wanteth a st'ry, a st'ry i writeth the the horror yond i findeth
v'ry amusin', 'cause all of those gents fuckin' st'ries art b'rin'
t's very much contrary to knoweth yond a bunch of kids doth ad're me
t's liketh i fath'r'd these alas'rs, so thee wonneth't findeth me on maury
i'm still a peat in mine own heart, so i has't a problem maturin'
but 'twill cometh from exp'riences and the horror i seeth tourin'
i'm liketh a bird at which hour i'm soarin', very much high
and i'm very much h'rny, from watchin' this p'rn, nope, but
bringeth in the h'rns, thee heareth yond fuckin' brass?
yond's dram knave nigga with the trumpets
marchin' with the bandwagon, lookin' f'r his heart
nay sleeve, but his handeth carryeth muskets
lurkin' in the meadows, oblivion
moth'rfuck geppetto, that gent's a leadeth'r, not a puppet
some professeth'rs nutti'r than klump's dick
so bethink bef're thee blinketh and ayy-ayy maketh assumptions
, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas is comin') thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas) thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
(niggas is comin') thy hath left, thy hath left, thy hath left, right hath left
five, four, three, two, and wh're's tyl'r?
bottom of the countdown, the horror ain't been the same
since i hath found out hodgy beats ghost-wrote f'r boweth wow
anon i'm the loud, shocketh value style, foul-mouth alas'r
yond thy teenage peat likes to boweth down
ridin' 'round town in seattle
with the same shotgun yond kurt hath used to click-clack, boom-pow
still suicidal, but some assume yond i'm merit anon
'cause i did get a fuckin' award and mine own owneth cubiculo anon
nope, but i can flip the horror liketh a couch pillow
and has't mine own death silent liketh a loose vowel
um, the bandwagon did turn into caboose, so
so, alloweth not yond dram nigga trumpet loseth soundeth
just alloweth that gent playeth