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ginuwine0caramel
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Name: Sir Kenneth
Country: United States
State: Maryland
Birthday: 11/7/1986
Gender: Male
Expertise: Doin the Damn thang
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Member Since:
1/17/2004
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| Check it out kids,... i finally updated my ol' ass pic...Bout damn time too
~G~ | | |
| IP: B405 F39A
Yo,
Epitomy, the poster child of stylish wack..
Fuck 'Flawless', we want Random.. so we puttin' 'em back..
Abstract, you know the movement is right..
Flow fit like jeans.. so we makin' it tight..
Style to style, kid, Flow to Flow..
Expedite the understanding of intuitive soul.. (C'mon)..
Nursery ryhmes?.. Damn this nigga is gay..
Leave 'em wet, limp and soggy like Specialty 'K'..
....Actin' like this is '1,2 Punch'..
Ya intelligence gets delayed like four 'o' clock lunch..
Twist his world, leave his stomach missplaced..
Turn 'em blue in the head.. like he smeared Smurf on his face.. | | |
| The newest.... Comments?
Can you feel it?.. Even the most solid image is frayed..
D.L. niggas are slick, like New York strippers in Glaze..
'Thump' drops the bomb, leaves "Temo" in daze..
Dances with fools......
......Get fucked with clubs, like primitive gay's..
Observe how without points, i even the score..
Drop it so hot, now you got holes burned through your floor..
This kids deeper undercover than truckers dickin' in stalls..
Light your ass like you got butt fucked with fleurescent bulbs..
Please beleive, i'll have you regret every word you muttered..
I'll linger 'round your house, like cake orbits Ruben Studdard..
If god really loves you..
...Then why did he make you swim with the sharks..
Just lit your ass like a christmas tree...
...Now you glow in the dark.. | | |
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Live by the Code.... Die by the Code | | |
| Just a random entry... My newest freestyle... just wrote it... let me know what you think:
I'm sick of fuckin' with this kid... Leave your 'Back Pack'ed' like '50's'..
My punches turn you 'Bobble Head'.. Your brain will bounce like titties..
My minds Journey, 'Trip's you... Make you fumble your demeanor..
I'll flip you... and leave slashes in your back like 'Xena'..
Murderin' this lyrical virgin... You talkin' shit, feelin' defiant..
I got more red on my dick... than dogs pissin', on newly painted hydrants..
My boys steady gainin' weight... We pack more force behind punches..
Like our mama's took their jelly and packed it all in our lunches..
We putin' 'Tracks' on the air... We makin' 'Tracks' when we leave..
So i know "Mis-Is" Train of thought is runnin on 'Tracks' through her weave..
Drop you to the 'Bass' of your grave... 'Cause we don't worry bout 'Treble'..
To help "GAMEFACE" Break it down... On the Molecular level..
Holla at ya boy,..
~G~ | | |
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