Quarter To Nine
[Verse 1: Terminal Caprices]

Sticks and stones, steadily breaking bones and shit
Hokus poking hoes, jelly bros ask who's dick was it
He drinks koopa soup on the daily
Spits so much venom his lips swell up like Jay-Z
Or Earl, give me some of what he's sipping on, delicious
Lips stitched I'm terminally capricious
Perniciously vicious, writing names on my hit list
If you don't get the gist bitch you're a dipshit, get this
His voice hits you like a tuba
Now females want their plumbing fixed, better call the roto rooter
Quiet up or I'mma shoot ya
Put the thing on youtube, smooth move you dog you
Hit and run, I do it all for fun
Get stone cold stunned, when I'm done I'm grabbing for the gun
You're just a shy guy but I'm so sheisty
Making eyes bleed your bro is like don't touch my eyes G
Fastidious with having perfect rhymes since
He wears a countenance like standing in line counting cents
Ever since they told him he could only spit fece
He melted thesis, like cold stones in heat, Jesus
Severing heads don't try to swallow
Sleepy hollow, you don't follow, majesto, presto!
Where he's from don't try to guess though
With the best foes, show no mercy like destro, lets go!
Doug, really funny, she love all the nice flavors
She show her true colors like pastels and Lightsabers
Tight schedules with so many whore's to grind
Four to nine, pour the wine, a quart or nine, yea so?