All I Know - Madchild, Krondon, Evidence

Yeah that’s that shit

I’ma spin that back

Madchild

Yeah, I like this shit

Yo

When I start writing, having all-nighters

Writing ‘til I feel like I’ve got fucking arthritis

Little King Kong, strong song writer

I’ll get some shit out my chest like I’ve got bronchitis

Mortifying, open up and then it’s more to fire

Horrifying, not quite bipolar but borderline

Bruce Lee spitting profusely

Gifted like a spruce tree

Banging out another verse on loose-leaf

Blue beast, hanging while I’m soaking up my new seems

Switching up my routine.

Taco’s ‘stead of poutine

Tried to take a flock of my Canadian geese

Duck, I’ll put that goose down, Canadian fleece

Evidence

I feel this (In my soul)

I got it (In my soul)

It comes from (my soul)

And this is (my soul)

Krondon

From their filers ‘fences

Throw in the towel

Leave your body singe’n

You’ll probably need a fire engine

Seven senses playing miles, never give it interest

Stressing their opinion, it’s in bless their vision

Twisting up my escape mission, the lights off

Door knock, the weight in my pains

Visit the Shell Shock

Nu buck Timberland

Dead stop, the crew cut

Jaw head, Johnny the jump to the dreadlock

Two jerk chicken and rum

Punch the pestilence

False prophets fumbling

Fun funds to let me just

Good play, now it’s a bad run

Your leg broke

Black Benz minus the patrol, the slow poke

Paralyzed breathing with no pulse, but of course

Sit and sip from the safest source cup I keep away from Satan’s course

Banking on the better force

Outvoted by the people’s choice

Evidence

I feel this (In my soul)

I got it (In my soul)

It comes from (my soul)

And this is (my soul)

Madchild

That last mixtape from Belly was a beast

I still got hunger in my belly, I’m a beast

Started at the bottom, keep climbing to the peak

Underground but still got gold and diamonds on my teeth

Holy smokes.

Feel the spirit, that’s the Holy Ghost

Life’s a rollercoaster, lucky that I didn’t overdose

Sharp and venomous as fuck.

Watch your cobra boast

Fuck with me, you’re comatose

Thousands of ‘em over coke

Bitches by the boatload

Lining up, I keep those

But it’s just catch and release if she can’t deep throat

I like this new shit, the psycho is adaptable

Spectacular.

Tap you on the back and crack your scapula

Soul controller drinking Coca-Cola with a broken molar

White PS4 with four remote controllers

I mass murder with these words, there is no shortage

5'7″, when I’m right I’m given short notice