MK Jungle Hustle

My other jungle, pale and swift. MK town where the scales, them shift.

No sugar, no flour. Pure nose gift. Man make racks for razor lift.

Come wrap like a birthday gift. Customs missed it, that's god of a myth.

Came through port with a teabox bump, but his fish scale raw in

the vacuum lump. Chop, whip, razor, kissing the tile.

Turn one into three, that's hustle style. MK block like Medellin street.

Just less jungle, same coke beat. Off that boat with the ink half-faded.

Dock man paid, now the root upgraded. Bag that food in the black