ode to action bronson

I have been busy trying to coin lyrics within the realm of different styles of music.
Action Bronson has been a regular on my playlist for a good year now.
So without further ado, I post a verse or two in my second-rate effort of replicating the great man.

I hope you enjoy.

'A young Bronsolinho, fly into the cafĂ©, cashmere sweater and a cappuccino. 
talking shit ain't me though. 
they call me full wit, spittin' heavy on the dee low.
A single-origin Yirgacheffe retweeted and refined. 
distilled into a glass jar, that's the drink of mine. 
whiskey of the working hours, nectar of the clever.  
cheese out in a Fifth avenue penthouse, all decked out in leather. 
philly cheese steak bits, easy on the cheddar. 


some say he is just Ghostface with a red beard and a fast pace. 
to be held in such high esteem as Killer and his team, 
it ain't nothin to fuck with, like a Tiramisu with some cool whip. 
soaking tips like a poker machine from the poor, misguided and obscene. 
the game needs a spray and wipe to clean that grimey glean on that ho's face. 
like a GranachĂ© viciously blended with some red mace. 
flying out of the Mercedes like a insane Gary Busey, grenade in one hand, backflips off the bonnet with an uzi. 
I ain't nothing like a referee, just got a whistle that I blow to order chilled potiguaya right in front of me.' 






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