Sell Me This Pen - Evidence, Alchemist, Mach-Hommy

Run through the wringer with my bros

Can’t even count the years in this game on my fingers and my toes

I don’t get open dancing on stage, I bring it to a close

Make a sandwich out of my knuckles and bring it to your nose

Mink black, the link Turkish

I wasn’t randomly selected, I was chose to serve a purpose

On many levels, you still scratching the surface

Machine’s working, I’m wrapping packages for purchase

Speed in a German auto, not with the frivolous convo

I’m in a drop rocking a hooded poncho

Talking out your ass, something I put my foot in pronto

Not the GOAT, but the way I float, it got my name put in the convo

Codename: Spy Hunter, I’m fly for the summer

Pockets thick like 22 plied lumber

Make a spectacle, observe me while I’m doing my numbers

Fadeaways with the tongue out when I’m shooting my jumpers

Fuck, bigger picture, if I rhyme, it’s just coincidence

These are God’s words given to my brain on top of instruments

Filtered through a brush, so when I paint it’s never settling

It’s reggae roots, rock, or watch Roots rock «Adrenaline»

Fuck the rhetoric of any lies attached to me

Assassinate my character with rumors and the blasphemy

Truth’s crushed to the earth and then it rises

While the working-late doctor working late with no surprises

I sell 'em stories, I don’t tell 'em the end

Only person in this building who could sell 'em this pen

(Sell me this pen) Say it slow one time and never say it again

'Cause your day might… and you never know when

This my shot, no chase

Either get briefed to the Evidence or there ain’t no case

Still rock it off my hand so there ain’t no trace

I’ve been around the planet but there ain’t no place

Make sure the shit is for real, the woodgrain is Stradivari, Venice Chenille

We’ll push caine to cash and carry, niggas was I’ll

Make sure the visit was healed

I put pain in every pad, we been in appeal

My bookbag was axillary, niggas could tell

Wrist is concealed, riches on top of riches, membership dues

We owe a lot of niggas venison til

Kind of fit link is from Nigerian grills

I keep a plantain in back of the coupe

Bullets ta-ting like the grand wizard, spit a thing at your canoot

Chewing tobacco, raw lavish is loose

Bullets for Babylon, babbling rules

365 donts, 249 patented moves

Food la bouche, it’s maize in your mouth with horse radish and goose

The poor house is salt, crackers, and soup

I’m Munchausen on rappers for juice-where is your proof?

Like you could fuck with all of that in the booth

I put professors on sabbatical too

I put some ketchup on a rapper, little peppercorn ranch and it’s «Mmm»

My bishop ran up on your castle in slough, Ravishing Rude

Some eucharist was on his hat in a cube

The hat flew, his ex let out the crack for fast food

(I'm wondering whether or not to go to France next week)