The Garden - Devlin

Welcome to the garden the HQ of Jim Laden

Where weed trees grow around the things I leave departed

Got AKs in black bags you think we’re full of garbage

Guess again the weapons I’ve obtained are like Osama’s

Who, by the way, is still alive, and says to say hello

And told me to tell you that hes just laying low

Then disclose that he was paid to take the blame

For what happened to the towers, so America could take control

I make the fans mosh, but this ain’t rock and roll

Just a snippet of the craziness of the life I know

Inside the grimy flow, blow your mind to Idaho

And fly back to return to its rightful home

Im like a war lord of lyrics I’ve got much more than spirit

Im trying to conjure a spell and take control

Of every single area code across the globe

For every fairy tale told I tell it straight and bold

I’m something like the common cold

No ones find a cure for me, so I just hang around until its time to go

And come back when I decide to

And play personas for viruses, like bird flu and swine flu

Or whatever’s in line next that’s been designed to

Kill it slowly within life’s huge human zoo

Its J. Ladan with a 'chete in alley way

Dont ask me who I am, who the fuck are you, Buckaroo?

All my bars and rhymes move in synchracy

Think of me like mother Mary boy you can’t get into me

But I ain’t virginal I’m dangerous to pussy holes

Who think that I won’t step to them instinctively and sink my teeth

In their damn necks, take a rain check

Instead of blazing you I probably rather blaze the blessed

But I’ll be spraying to the day and date the game starts making sense

Won’t stop until I’m dead

Thats what I call going to grave extents

Bring me back to life in fifty thousand years

And I reign on whoever rapping nice

Then kick back with a diet coke jack and ice

See words for me swells within the devils eyes

A never ending well of lust probably made me jealous, I

Throw my hands up, I admit

But I run up my lips a bit because I felt like I’m handcuffed

But now I’ve broke free, Im never leaving bankrupt

Rappers think they’re dead stiff like rigor mortis is

Just know I go hard, like pornstar performances

Norman of Normandy, I’ll force you out your fortresses

Until you’re hiding like your moonlighting as a contortionist

I see men collecting metals, I think we need to pause a bit

Cause I ain’t hating for the day that I start making soft songs son

I’ll probably win an award for it

And for a spitter like myself that’s what the bullshit is

Anyways, I never stray away from real

All I can do, I guess, is demonstrate the way I feel

The way I speak, the way I move, the way I breathe, the way I’m ill

So real life got me chasing that 2 stone still

I lost when diabetes handed me my tombstone I’m fucking ill

Listen, I worked hard to get signed, but thats irrelevant

The point I’m tryna make’s I never had a lucky deal

So all you inbreds can climb my money hill

Cause D.E.V.

is on the hunt for money still

And then my hands ain’t on the curb they’re on the till

I’m OT, you know me

Running through the whole scene, screaming Dagenham is ill

With young whippers snappers grabbing on the steel

What the fuck is with this manner chat will get you killed

Crack and smack is everywhere, just like the weed and pills

My backyard is too rough for Titchmarsh

Fuck all the little pricks who keep saying my name

You’ll never be as ill

I’ve done everything you’ve done ten times over

We got everyone doing good things for the UK

Nothing but love all day

Lets make it happen

OT our time, Devlin, A Moving Picture