konrad

konrad

Never all that was wanted

And life got harder and sharpened

To seize everything you ever wanted

Sick enough to hawk vomit, on every inch of carpet

I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket

Can't blame you, my rap is sonic like chronic and i don't spit man, i vomit

 

 

So i run, sprint off the corridor, and slip the gun into my pocket

Shootin past the sun, outta the milky way unlike any rocket

 

But when i spit its atomic, like feeling the force of a comet.

I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket

 

But when i spit its atomic, like feeling the force of a comet.

Dreams riding him on rockets shit in his locket of rhymes from his pocket