Marinated cigarettes are fuckin’ delicious
I let em’ sit in the ashtray to blacken my lips a lil’ bit
Isn’t quite rhymin’ but I’ma writer/rapper by self description
Listeners can never question my penmanship
I’ve got fictions I’m wishin’ to live but my fingers and lips didn’t give
Spittin’ a diss simply to penetrate within your skin
Sinfulless gifts
with
Symbol-mixed glyphs
Trickin’ again
(trickin’ again)
(trickin’ again?)

These words are marinated Cigarettes
Sittin in the ashtray of my endless disconnect

Symbols saturated in the morally gray
What more can I say but more of the same, the whores are to blame

This poor goat
Won’t scape from the blade
Open the gate,
Run
Open the gate

These words are marinated Cigarettes
Sittin in the ashtray of my endless disconnect

These characters have been tattered past half-way clear
This flow is stolen directly from the rap group, Atmosphere