We have come to the last round of National Cipher 2012. I am Jr, and this is TP. Allstars, check the jacket-it cost the shirt. The white out of the eye, not to mention the watch, the deck is stacked. Time passes; I've got more swagger, less hair. I stand and see, I stand and laugh; it's not God they stand and pray to. Trying to gather more people, I ignore it, but I catch things, like everyone looking at each other because they’re walking in circles. Taken some stings, eased the pain, saved up, jumped hurdles, and prevented-You need to grow up, so just get started. Can't you see it? Our edge in the face, or start to dig. [Music] Aha, the light shines on with the best. Literary junk, "Out Stealing Horses." The game is crack, cracking at the seams. Tried to patch it up but realized it’s leaking somewhere. Rest in peace-we are, but now they say the son is sour. Let pH say he’s deep like a well. Shit, I emphasize the obvious, like a VH. Your crew looks like a ball of wool. You must TP-you need to add more, there’s nothing to look at. Glitter spits silly bars, prison bars, the light moves. The free listener sighs when you brag about myths of your reputation. You lie a little, and if you squint a little, maybe you can see me up high. You’re still doing recycled TV. The old guys send kids into the war to die. Twenty years in the game, done with bleeding. And remember, if you don’t want to fall, fight against the overwhelming power. Even the best fight in vain; no one is spared. All is fair game and wants their share. Silent in the middle but under the spotlight, and all the crap. Don’t disturb me when I’m on the side, drinking a beer-it’ll be an ambulance to the side, with burst miles. Brownie points for me, I extinguish your flame, close the door, and chop down your trunk. You’ve lost your grip; you can have my autograph, bitch, in your frame. [Music] Ah, sometimes I lift my gaze, tighten my jaw, live in the moment, cause trouble, and live. My genre is my own-it pushes back. There are many snakes in one. I make songs about what I have. That's seven. You’re a guy on crap FM with some good, fucking, old-school hardcore rap. Happiness has a long life-jewelry and booze, pieces of shards on an excellent beat. It’s ugly to believe in rumors; the new drink and spit. So I escape a little, to where it's safe. I fear getting ugly when TP presses the button, pressing it smoothly. Yes, when TP presses the button.

Listen to haze from spain

Same, hoppern

han var på skolen min i dag også på Jappa Skole

Damn what happen with kaveh his voice,flow and lyrics go bad after the jail incident,damnn what the fame can do

Warlocks ++++

Jobba hardt gjennom tidligere stramme år. Warlocks skal tilbake på scenen og slenge dritt til øvrigheten. Pål også forsovidt.