Song parody of
Two Birds and One Stone
by Quadroon
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Two birds n one stone
Two verses n one flow
Two persons in one home
Too perfect, to let em know
Two murders, the lead from crome
Do burden, the heads of those
Referred to, as dead and gone
Im hurting, my head is on
Never lookin back, a crooked cat pushing past
Mistooken passions, like hooded rats, pushing suga packs
I couldnt last, so i dashed on a one way ticket
Up Outta dodge, with nothing else but my self and my fucking raps
Fuck a strap, i gotta gat for a tongue
Outlast my son's son, a hunnid grandad
Im headed for triple digits, its simple as physics
How i spit riddles for gimmicks, and they still aint gimme a minute
Im ill, name me a sickness, not invented
Cool bred, authentic, pen plenty present
Sending veterans to bed with paranoia
They spines sigh with chills, from smelling this very odo
A wizard like hary potta, seranade every note
Through your stereo with an ariel flow
Desinging rhymes, like shamanic flight
All the time, arrose from the very low thought clouds above a stoner
A loner, wander through these catacombs n caverns
With nothing but a lantern n dagger, im ready for the worst
By the time you see my light you already in the dirt
Im what youll never be, For what its worth
What at first, seemed like an opportunity
Has proved to be nothing but a fucking curse
I get paid in attention while you rumaging through a purse
On the beat like the purge
Two birds n one stone
Two verses n one flow
Two persons in one home
Too perfect, to let em know
Two murders, the lead from crome
Do burden, the heads of those
Referred to, as dead and gone
Im hurting, my head is on
Two birds n one stone
Two verses n one flow
Two persons in one home
Too perfect, to let em know
Two murders, the lead from crome
Do burden, the heads of those
Referred to, as dead and gone
Im hurting, my head is on
Never lookin back, a crooked cat pushing past
Mistooken passions, like hooded rats, pushing suga packs
I couldnt last, so i dashed on a one way ticket
Up Outta dodge, with nothing else but my self and my fucking raps
Fuck a strap, i gotta gat for a tongue
Outlast my son's son, a hunnid grandad
Im headed for triple digits, its simple as physics
How i spit riddles for gimmicks, and they still aint gimme a minute
Im ill, name me a sickness, not invented
Cool bred, authentic, pen plenty present
Sending veterans to bed with paranoia
They spines sigh with chills, from smelling this very odo
A wizard like hary potta, seranade every note
Through your stereo with an ariel flow
Desinging rhymes, like shamanic flight
All the time, arrose from the very low thought clouds above a stoner
A loner, wander through these catacombs n caverns
With nothing but a lantern n dagger, im ready for the worst
By the time you see my light you already in the dirt
Im what youll never be, For what its worth
What at first, seemed like an opportunity
Has proved to be nothing but a fucking curse
I get paid in attention while you rumaging through a purse
On the beat like the purge
Two birds n one stone
Two verses n one flow
Two persons in one home
Too perfect, to let em know
Two murders, the lead from crome
Do burden, the heads of those
Referred to, as dead and gone
Im hurting, my head is on
