Rolling through the nation's capitol, laying down lines raidcal and mathematical. With precision, following my oldschool vision. No collision I'm an Agent on a Fakiegrind mission.
Bought so many LP's my suitcase split. Synthesizer sounds and beats legit. Hanging with homies from way back. Curtis has Star Wars toys at his flat. Keri cooks freezer burn dogs from a pack. Tweaking the playlist in MP3 format.
Liberty Park like a UFO landing pad. Throwing down moves that the locals find rad. Rolling on new wheels and wood from my dad. Breaking in shoes makes my feet hurt bad. But I keep rolling, board controlling, bells are tolling for souls ufolding.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
This is the lamest rap ever. Nobody uses the word rad anymore. It's nice that your dad bought you a skateboard, but maybe you should look for another line of work.
The right to be lame is part of the Fakiegrind charter of rights and freedoms, alongside the right to wear plaid. I've been a nerd my whole life, and I'm not going to quit now.
Post a Comment