Punnett Square

Chuck N Lock, Lockjaw, Chuck Angus

(Verse 1: Lockjaw)
Raised by wolves
To be paid in full
The stage is set I played it cool
You wanna make the rules, must pay your dues, or be doomed to a life of some Deja Vu
Stay in school
Time is spare change
Back of the class throwing spitballs and paper airplanes
We better make it soon
Wait til you hear how sick we are pacing round the waiting room bout to make some moves
Cause it's all a foot chase
To the big home with a revolving bookcase
Keep quiet, we need a riot
I wanna turn heads like a screwdriver
But then again
All I wants to pen some hymns
And synonyms keep it moving like an immigrant
But ain't much changed in the past year
Killing time turns to a cold case of craft beer
Often, or they'll get stuck up in an office with Steve Carrell and Colin Farrell, Horrible Bosses
Yeah that raw shit makes you nauseous
Those that don't wanna know proceed with caution
Eyes on my target I'm swept under the carpet
But I pay attention it's a bargain
And I won't lose what i was told before I started
Don't you ever confuse those trees for the forest
I've lost my marbles Phil Simms with the pigskin
I'm a giant, something iconic
Mind full of promise, Mines filled with jewels and diamonds
A few rhymebooks in the Library of Congress
Had a few triumphs learned nothing's fair
You can get the wrong side of the Punnett Square
So come prepared
Leave you running scared for another pair of underwear
Kid ain't nothing fair

(Hook: Lockjaw)
East side where the wind blow
That's all I know
Pack up then I get going
That's all I know
East side where the wind blow
Pack up then I get going
Bad choice and I live wrong
That's all I know..

(Verse 2: Chuck Angus)
I watch the grain slip through the cylinder
I hear a pen drop in the next room
Yo I'm a recluse I probably should've left soon
And then I watched all the walls start closing in
I think about the money that I owe my friends
Hear my boy spit some dope shit then he give me 5 like I'm homeless
I just closed a deal up at sothebys another warehouse for my trophies
And I got the game in a throat grip
Take reality in doses
Go piss, watch the organ trickle
Dreams of the top they barely afford the middle so they cover up they whole body
I don't trust nobody
I don't know probably
Everybody picking through the junk at the swap meet
It's getting good better not leave
Running through the chips with some hot cheese
Dipped with some broccoli
Everybody jocking me
Yo they strung off the letters like apostrophes
Looking for the right angle call it the isoceles
I got the crew set adequate and properly
Keep the lost sporting goods found on my property
God damn kids
When my money in the red god damn this

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