Rhyme Cypher

[Bag Mandela]

Cold with a chillin tempo,
I'm here outdrifting enzos in little yellow cinquecentos,
Off my friggin head tho I'm kicking this so chill n mellow you'd think I wrote this shit amid a meadow off some trippy jello,
Or was it post-dickin in ya sisters renault?
Could've been ya bitches mini metro,
It's like a rolled up newspaper in width n length so whichever one of em it was I left em with an Echo,
Music to your ears when I swing a cello,
I just did a bunch of meth so I could get out of a shitty ket hole n now I'm stuck climbing the walls like a little gecko

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