Turn up at the scene of the crash, I’m a bad penny
I’m the feelin’ after you killed him and seen the safe empty
The weight lift like payday lendin’
Face twist at the memory
One machine for vending
The other take empties
This your land of plenty?
This your land of plenty?
It was all I could do to speak gently, gently
I’m only rhymin’, where the horns at? Fuck that
But, any port in a storm, black
Landed balls deep in the landed gentry
Port of entry, centuries
Melt away at Sephora counters
My Hasidim on Broadway a Debbie Downer
Sonny Corleone on the causeway, E-ZPass past the cowards
Speak gently