Dive Lounge - Scope Sessions - Cryptoph

Prattle's not Prudent. 
They ask if you knew it, play dumb, stay mute. 
What matters is what you've done
You do, you did do, or 
you didn't.
Get at me in a minute dude.  I've got some raps to finish,
and i'd rather no one bear witness to this
master with no pupils, there's no spare syllabus,
a slick student of this spittin' shit. 
Chewing rhythms like Ritalin,
it's good to be aware who you're chillin' with. 
No spillin' this sauce. 

They ask if that's the booth, no I piss there. 
No shit tho bro go downstairs.
Anytime time Toph starts to rap kids get scared.
Hustle sold separately, such a golden recipe.
Old cassettes deftly sampled jams off the Tascam.
Rap scam fam pass the hash.  Tag the Masked Man. 

We've taken a turn into hell. 
The burn and the smell,
you can certainly tell who's tolling the bell. 
The goal is to sell. 
Rolling your own grave, stoned by yourself,
disowned by the wealth of old age.
Gold melts old selves. 
yo
Do not enter the dive lounge with live rounds.
Keep your head center and the pipe down. 
The stakes are high like cows in a grow house.
They tried to take my crown but got smoked out. 
No sound made, no ground laid. 
It's cold out. 