from by F.E.L.N.

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A pure display of artistic skill, nothing more.


Living bless under some stressless skies we restless guys.
That detest the spies, out fitted with best designs.
A couple bitches in the VIP with fat lips.
No sweat, don't lack attraction so I'm probably gon' know one.
Look who just showed up prepped to go nuts and just wreck the scene.
Your eyes green with jealousy at the hair and Hennessy.
Modern artistic twisted dusty coated fxcking coldest.
Easy to fxcking notice, fxcking sewn it, fxck the poignant.
He's fxcking bogus, roll with hoes that's poking holes in trojans.
Holy moly - I am rolling - no more molly after this.
My every sway is accurate, my wordplay is an acid trip.
Run circles round your trashy whip you're half my wits when rapping shit.
Grill and still boil. Nigga you are tin foil all your food has been spoiled.
You need a new plate - I'm the spades ace. Best card on display.
Thrilling bitches with a single finger spinning 'tween them legs.


You ain't on my level - you are low below my holy role.
Nigga I'ma golden soul that goes for goals and gets em.
Pretty with ill direction, plus it helps I'm good at sexing too.
We're getting food, you're getting boo'd.
You're getting bruised I'm that dope.
Trap notes popping capsules, selling rap flow stretching in my castle.
Motto still? It sticks no hassle. Hakuna Matata.
Not the type to talk to, less it's bucks or chucks or fxcking moves.
Fxcking dues? I'm paying true. Fxck your needs improvement crew.


from T​.​O. Noire, released November 14, 2014
Produced by Birthday Boy



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F.E.L.N. Toronto, Ontario

I make music.. Sometimes it's Rap - sometimes it's Trap & sometimes it's Trip..

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