True Dialect

1 A.M., I'm at my best
Twisting trees at my rest
Melt with hash, sipping Heiny, hitting states in a G.S.
With my grimeys, blowing up throughout the 90s
Staying lit with the Chocolate Armoretta plus a dime piece
Taking Gortex steps, 'cause gets hot
Pistols pop, some you hear, some you know when you drop
Twisting off the bottle top, contemplate, fake the plot
While walk around with all they got in one knot
For real, I build a mini-Israel, others the fish scale
Like the Red Sea, deep and deadly, though I'm a sit still
Imagine being gassed up, your time passed up
Thinking you Lord sipping wine out of brass cup your last supper's
Served, without Grace son about face
I hung a nun in '91 to captivate the rap race
Straight from the pros or the 'jects, the nines or the techs
Chapter One, today's Math, 'True Dialect'