Deon - Larry love freestyle [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

I'm just fucking around
Just fucking around...

[Verse 1: Deon]

Have I lost my relevance yet?
Well nevertheless I'm here contesting
With the best, the nigga that's left can get to stepping
Chin check and throw my flow at your soul
And cave your chest in, this message honed will rip the flesh from your bones
And then Ether your every effort
It's reckless to come contest with
Sticks and stones when my clique carry boulders and Smith and Wessons
You get the message? you step to NS and you're getting severed
Siphon your inner essence to smith a segment
Your soul is the mold for my golden crescent
Set it atop the herringbone I stole from Wally Left
Shine bright like his fucking necklace
You're probably lost
I'll probably pop a neck with this next line
Like a Soviet vet I'm
A possible prodigy. paint Picasso's in Etch A Sketch
... so who ain't relevant?
Buck 'em down to the sediment
Fuck 'em up cause their regiment's
Estrogen levels settle at feminine levels, let 'em in
Kettles burst from my letters, a better devil than you've ever been.. nigga

Want me to give it one more?

[Verse 2]

Pessimistic, I embody the solipsistic
Circle body the pestilent kid omit the friendships
Rather chill inside and pen a song
Or realize and realign, than iMessage your phone, right...
I message the drone
Like I step in alone
My life been measures and poems since Death Star mentioned a clone
My misses mentioned and old mistresses that I hit and boned
I admitted I missed her company, she kissed me she sent me home
But honestly it's nothing's ain't used to
She's used to being used and I like that shit so just do you
Usually not an option but probably not priority
Probably not the course, but she like my dick so I move through
It goes: bad decision, bad decision, worse
I lost precision, lack attention, dadless nigga cursed
I'm mad I missed the mark it had if Madden Vision worked
I might have hit the target like Farve did in Meadow Park when he swerved
Every Tom Brady get a pick six
And 6's come in triplets the imps are just too pretentious
Pillage to Hell's kitchen just to messy up the dishes
Dished out more than you can chew, now Chuabaka back with a vengeance
Tommy caps, a Glock in the Timbs, a block from your business
Nahh it's just me and a beanie, some beats, a paper and pencil
Recollect on past decisions and pray that guidance is given
God... I should've never went down to steal them utensils