Hayter Haight.
Hayter Haight, bitch, with comments.
Motte, you nerd. Motte, you do not pull.
All these iambic poured drunk.
Who gave the microphone back a monkey?
Dude and features glasses. Repair and dash.
Psevdoalbomy, in any you here through a friend.
Wang is not, but the evil I see hundreds of comments.
London is a rumor: bespectacled ate Dementor.
You dressed in black, but as if from a funeral.
In rap turned steeper-I spin like Pokemon.
Conscience is not to intercede in the outfit.
Critics barrel Katie on me.
Those who defame my name for nothing,
Such need is stupid to drown like kittens.
I wrote tracks Lebanon, for all bashlyaet Timan.
I'm not a talent, not a musician, a copy of a copy, but, amateur.
All nonsense, I was not born sewn, here's my third album was released.
Although after all cried Motte, your rap establish the breathing.
God gave us the word, but we zasrali fiercely.
I am fighting for our rights, even though I'm not Martin Luther.
I do not cry that number one, such as Shaquille O'Neal.
Yes, I know his worth, negative funeral.
forums so love to rub my feet under the gravel.
All my snakes in the grass Ricky Tiki Tavi.
Mr. Hayter, Mr., Mr. Hayter,
Black day has come, you play on my flute.
Hey, Mr. Hayter, Mr., Mr. Hayter,
I made you a mix of bile, please drink. (X2)
