JWSB Bootleg #1

Leave dudes bruised blacker than some ash bud
The Wayniac is back mark your calendars and Macbooks
Roll your Backwoods, if you can’t find ‘em
Take a slab of wood and roll it on the green like Woods would
Could chuck hoods what could fuck the game up
A mad tight wunderkind with lines on his pay cuts
And mind on the paper, he fold it into planes
Hitting lames in their eye, start crying about his name
Yeah I’m Jonwayne the same motherfucker
With the tendency to shoot and throw faces in the gutter
Gun slinging shingle-sick with wits of an Einstein
With enough wake up lines to cure the blind
I know my Daddy had a great sense of humor
Had me back tracked rap now I’m clapping to his view cause
I got girls swinging with their hips like it’s a hula
I still keep spitting when I’m fitted with a tumor
I used to start ciphers like bitches start rumors
But now I sit back and let some other rapper’s crew cut
You know my voice on these beats is straight shrooming
And the style’s still blooming, make the psychedelic music
I’m on the street with a pocket full of tunes
Sounding like relics and runes digitized for the boom
Beats with the bass for the size of the room
With enough bars to find the golden ticket
It’s wicked when I flip it in my vision
A third eye incision
My mind’s on the fritz getting crazy when I kick it
The only way that I can fall asleep is when you shit it
Your show’s looking like a night of the dead living
I ain’t kidding, you said you get in where you fit in
But you ain’t gonna get it when you fit it in a trashcan
Slammed by your peers as just another man
Who can rap a couple couplets but ducking on the ruckus
You better get it together you wack motherfucker