Album: Pen Bleed
Track: Remember The Name
Artist(s): Confession
Release: 2009
Pen Bleed Publishing (ASCAP)

[talk] lets get em. . . You know what it is. . . Remember the name. . . another reason to remember the name. . . remember the name; Confession - another reason to remember the name; Confession (x3)

I’m back at it; when all of you practice your mathematics
Countin on me to fail and get dropped like a bad habit
Dagnabit; what happened is half you can’t hack it
So you’re madd at the fact that I’m one of the badasses
You couldn’t recognize talent if you had glasses
A tad passive cuz I can’t hear you
From way up here; its kinda lonely as the last standing
You act candid, but we all know you’re an ass bandit
You’re measure in rhyme how much they rewind you
I’m sick as the swine flu; must I remind you
Whatever, I’m just tryna get a few in
So I’m on point like a Reese Witherspoon chin
Until its my end I grind in a literal sense
My tires cry for me to get a new rim (screech)
I’m hot like I was sprayed with kerosene
Its probably cuz I’m tied to my work like David Carrodine

Gimme a microphone; I’ll set it aflame
Show me the people that had said I wouldn’t enter the game
The day I step out its never the same
And this is just another reason to remember the name

I go dogg nasty when chasing a Kardashian
My paws happy; don’t care if its all ashy man
I got the lotion for them ashy cheeks
Shit, I would rub that ass to sleep; I’m just sayin
You know I only ride with my primates
My stock is on the rise like the crime rate
Terrible conversation but you better believe I could rhyme great
I’m only half crazy, okay, maybe I’m 5/8
I’m hungry and snickers says why wait
So you know I’m goin right for your food on my plate
You could tell I’m the shit by what I ate
I think highly of myself; watch my pupils dialate
She wiggle, pop, shake, jiggle and girate
Sure she’s fine now; watch the toll time takes
My sides ache, they wanna see me get irate
that’s like Amy Winehouse saying goodbye Blake


[talk] Confession. . . . Pen Bleed. . . Making your pen bleed, baby. . . .