[verse 1 - TBone] (+ Bon Mot)

It's TBone (and Bon Mot)

Beats booming (bombs dropped)

Speak fluent (non-stop)

Teach truth upon blocks (of stone)

With poems, that build from the ground up

Found the lost tossed aside now it's time to round up

Form up - swarm stuff, aligned in formation

Ask us to repeat if you don't get the information

I'll admit we kept you waiting, we're moving on a planned route

Scanning to expand out, jamming, demand sprouts

Hands out, we'll give you some free shit

The knowledge is available you just must seek it

Take out wack selections whenever I see fit

Equip my beat with a sweet kick and heat spit

212 degrees farenheit

All we need is speakers and a pair of mics

On point, sharper than a pairing knife

Barking all the jargon spitting shit that makes you very hype

[verse 2 - Bon Mot]

Spitting quick to get shit like a nun's wrath

It ain't tight I just like it when my gums flap

Pull back, hipster swag the dunce cap

Tongue lash, don't need a dick to make you cunts clap

Dumb cats run trap because it's frontin

I'll talk about anything from everything to nothing

Stack scratch without a lab above my oven

If they dropping shit, I'm spitting draino through the plumbing

Your foundation is complacency in music

Take your propaganda and replace it with my bullshit

The difference is I'm spitting from a pulpit

Bon Mot is holier than thou like a prude is

When I put out, I know it's rushed

You say oh that's nice, that's real polite, your cheeks are flushed

You say it's the drinks but I ain't ever seen your cup

So I swallow up the Dutch and throttle bottles like a clutch

Then wonder why it is I always seem to do that

Walking home I bum a half a pack like a hood rat

Spend nights working on a version of a new track

Wishing I was better at the only thing I'm good at

With perfection comes practice

Wackness is determined by how dope you're acting

Need confessions like I need lessons on hat tricks

I figure by my third work I'll prolly be bat shit