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I came in the door, I said it before, I never let the mic magnetize me no more, but it's biting me, it's fighting me, inviting me to rhyme, I can't hold it back, I'm looking for the line, taking off my coat, clearing my throat, the rhyme will be killing me until I had my last supervisor.
And down there it stands, and it's with my hands, and it's above my head, and I'm lying, Jesus said I go and dance, dance, dance, with my hands, and it's above my head.
Oh, she said, you already got to the yams. You already ate the goddamn yams. We can't pass you the fucking yams. Put the phone down. Put the yams down.