| Song | Never Grow Up |
| Artist | The Alchemist |
| Artist | Evidence |
| Album | Russian Roulette |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I play the low in, you definitely know, | |
| You probably never heard of me | |
| Got hands that never shake, | |
| It’s a steady hand surgery. | |
| Already been, it’s just courtesy, | |
| I’m the MC, didn’t mean it to not be | |
| MC. Living proceeded by the | |
| B8BU. Hey, you see, there ain’t no mother fucker take two. | |
| Mistakes, too, happen, and | |
| I ain’t afraid to keep ‘em living, | |
| A paddom with a little pain and leave ‘em with the smell of riffle. | |
| A palid move with a self receiver, | |
| Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can’t tell it’s even | |
| And I ain’t tell ‘em, either. | |
| I did tell them this, | |
| I guess I didn’t tell ‘em “give it” | |
| But did sell the cevets, | |
| Say it like | |
| I seem repetuous, | |
| I see them come and go, selling out biedous. | |
| I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing | |
| Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling | |
| Sell a feeling for the river of exposure, | |
| I’m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier. | |
| There’s just no gimmick to this closure, | |
| Just the image with the folk written over, | |
| Just the vision of the finished rhyme, | |
| I finish in a sense and | |
| I send them all within a sign. | |
| I’m sitting on a bench like it’s dinner time, | |
| Not meant to offence, getting my thing. |
| I play the low in, you definitely know, | |
| You probably never heard of me | |
| Got hands that never shake, | |
| It' s a steady hand surgery. | |
| Already been, it' s just courtesy, | |
| I' m the MC, didn' t mean it to not be | |
| MC. Living proceeded by the | |
| B8BU. Hey, you see, there ain' t no mother fucker take two. | |
| Mistakes, too, happen, and | |
| I ain' t afraid to keep ' em living, | |
| A paddom with a little pain and leave ' em with the smell of riffle. | |
| A palid move with a self receiver, | |
| Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can' t tell it' s even | |
| And I ain' t tell ' em, either. | |
| I did tell them this, | |
| I guess I didn' t tell ' em " give it" | |
| But did sell the cevets, | |
| Say it like | |
| I seem repetuous, | |
| I see them come and go, selling out biedous. | |
| I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing | |
| Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling | |
| Sell a feeling for the river of exposure, | |
| I' m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier. | |
| There' s just no gimmick to this closure, | |
| Just the image with the folk written over, | |
| Just the vision of the finished rhyme, | |
| I finish in a sense and | |
| I send them all within a sign. | |
| I' m sitting on a bench like it' s dinner time, | |
| Not meant to offence, getting my thing. |
| I play the low in, you definitely know, | |
| You probably never heard of me | |
| Got hands that never shake, | |
| It' s a steady hand surgery. | |
| Already been, it' s just courtesy, | |
| I' m the MC, didn' t mean it to not be | |
| MC. Living proceeded by the | |
| B8BU. Hey, you see, there ain' t no mother fucker take two. | |
| Mistakes, too, happen, and | |
| I ain' t afraid to keep ' em living, | |
| A paddom with a little pain and leave ' em with the smell of riffle. | |
| A palid move with a self receiver, | |
| Odd thoughts from a rhyme that you can' t tell it' s even | |
| And I ain' t tell ' em, either. | |
| I did tell them this, | |
| I guess I didn' t tell ' em " give it" | |
| But did sell the cevets, | |
| Say it like | |
| I seem repetuous, | |
| I see them come and go, selling out biedous. | |
| I took that to pallan and that they caught me dealing | |
| Better selling this crap to never seen the ceiling | |
| Sell a feeling for the river of exposure, | |
| I' m a thick take it dealing like a no limit soldier. | |
| There' s just no gimmick to this closure, | |
| Just the image with the folk written over, | |
| Just the vision of the finished rhyme, | |
| I finish in a sense and | |
| I send them all within a sign. | |
| I' m sitting on a bench like it' s dinner time, | |
| Not meant to offence, getting my thing. |