[Tobe Nwigwe:]
Get Twisted Sundays
It's bout to be epic

Look
I get it rockin' like a cradle
I never sold Cain, but I was able
To see my partners make thorough bread without the stable
While packin' somethin' fatal that make ya top spin like Dreidel
Ouu
I hung around them shells like April
O Neal, oh feel me when I get to saying
It's so real, folk will think that it's entertaining
Til' them shots fly, no subliminal
That's the plight of aggravated aboriginals
My whole life, I been congregating with criminals
I swear I graduated with just minimal effort
Lectures to me was received better from the King of Bedford
Stuy-ves-ant
I swear Biggie taught me lessons
My guess is his propensity for excellence
Might not get discussed by the adolescents
But I'm blessed with
Yeah

The gift of carrying torches
Sometimes I get nervous
As a suitor that's entering courtship
Ouu
Than I get to feeling euphoric
Holy flow, every bar low-key
Should be penned in the Torah
Ouu
And look at Fat, she's so gorgeous
She'd be with me whether I was flippin' a Tesla or Taurus
Ouu
I'm a mess, I'm a horror
But I been blessed kinda sorta
Every bar, brick and mortar can't sing
But I'm known to finesse on a chorus
You can't see the flow unless you using the eye of Horus
Ouu

[FAT