Lletres:
Saafir Other

Boxcar sessionist black magic is The magnet breakin' 'em down to Micro fragments. I might go dragnet Shoot Joe on Friday if I miss I'll Get your one

vicious vile wicked you can't fuck with the twisted winding sizeable you've stumbled into hazy ill-defined room ya shrumed ya self butt naked ya nothin but chosen prunes frozen fumes Saafir

I know I'm an emotionally disturbed person People think I'm talkin' to myself when I'm Rehearsin' on the rhyme. A mass productionist, a mass production

You like classics well I'll stock that ass Wit a 454 hypo, nitro hooked through the trunk, I'm a flowmaster monk you'll get smobbed on, I'll smoke that

Another massive dose I'm sendin' in Hittin' when I step back to the deck Sidebets kick 'em in then raise up Jet from the ivory it's time for me To see

For the binge. They want me to hit the crack Like a dope fiend. It's all good, but I hope You're clean. 'Cause if you're not then you'll rot. Cause ah...Saafir

It's best you let me wander or I'll taunt Ya with my brain I'm the editor-in-chief, The leaf-a-rap a dope shit, antique Rope kits for the hang time,

creek is shot with Silver bullets that is no problem I Have a barrel of assorted verbs let me pluck-one Fuck you much too dwindled and harsh Dead on white and cloudy clear Saafir