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Artist: Bronze Nazareth
Album:  Thought for Food, Vol. 1
Song:   Wrong Growth
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Bronze Nazareth]
I never ran on the blocks with a hand full of rocks
But I stand on the stand, cuz I'm chased by the cops
It's a rough grain traveler, run but I gained asthma
I probably gat for you to keep my stomach half full
Bad seeds born, mad dreams torn
If I'dda got eye for the violence mom found
I'm piled underground with some worms and the moles
And I squirm cuz it's cold, but even that shit get hot
The devil's got a spot, where the bellos are heard not
Herb spots and heard shots, souls rising, some not
Where guns rule, and if you heard otherwise
You better chirp them other guys and tell 'em you in trouble twice
Ran back hand and gat to the people, black
Knowing that it's wrong to travel on her needle tracks
Damn, that's sad, still cooked the spoon
Still looked in soon from the city's crooked ruins
Traveled by foot platoon, metal like the Brooklyn's room
She took two hits, looking toothless
Suck dick for lines stick, it's toothpicks, it's ruthless
It's no jive, so people choose to do this
Robbing and boosting, trying to see proof in your eyes
But your body language tell me otherwise
I roll on a dolo, solo rhymes from my dojo
The crime wave don't grow slow, I shine like Soul Glow
You blind like Minolo, and what we do is wrong
But how else we gonna grow though?
That's just how it go though...
Hands made of cast metal, made from a black widow
Caving your back window, escaping a black temple
Bumping with that murder swarm, double lyrics burning jaw
I sever the most raw, swamps in the city
Gritty rhyme crack stone, shanking ya back bone
Banks armored tanks poems, Donald Goines word flow
Sold snow, no, small time to big blow
Slow burn the bankers route, silence of my muffled mouth
North to dirty south, lord like dirty out
So we can staring at, clouds what we staring back
Crack o-zones, to stack more bones
Black is west, might fill it up with onyx stones
With simple position, I spill men and women
Build with the villains, dope fiends and the victims
Watch police pick 'em, off they listening
They throw away the keys, after sniffing recovered keys
Life is so ugly, it's right that we must eat
Whether it's wrong, when we dust heat off and bust heat off
Score with the lucky, what's coughing buster streets
Tough as meat, cooked warm
Tahoes and Yukons, kind of pills is you on?
I'm on some, radioactive Bronson
We run like Cap and Jada, up the escalator
Stealing Escalade later, fuck Ralph Nader
I stuck the navy, to borrow a namy headstones
Steal from the rich, put it in my S scroll