Winter Winter

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Evan Hill

Evan Hill (January 20, 1919 – April 10, 2010) was an American journalist and professor at the University of Connecticut (UConn), where he chaired the journalism department from 1965 to 1984. A stern but beloved teacher, Hill exerted major influence on Connecticut journalism. He mentored many editors and reporters in the region and served as a director and trustee of The Day. He authored eight books and 160 magazine articles. more »

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Yeah
Mr Mr can't touch me
Winter winter and something
Pavin a way for my name in the game
Hatin the blame but I can't stay away
Blister blister and hugging
Dinner dinner no loving
Makin them exterminate the fame so they can see me the same
When the chain go away
Fight at the top it's a bird fight now
Night never stop till the hurt die down
Not gonna drop till the first day out
Problem is fought, you in third place now
Dropping a lot but it's her brain wow
Vodka is talking ima burn right down
On the John since the first case filed
Häagen-Dazs finna stir right round
I been known to get better wit time
In the ground but I'm stuck spittin sick rhymes
Nose is clogged but with dirt and what's worse is I'll inevitably get high
By this time next year I'll be rappin in the grave
Not because I died but because you won't take me the same
Way you did when you heard me when I was alive and insane
We feel evil, I'll seem ill with three pills
When the weed chills I'll need at least three mills
To suffice for three days, then we will need a refill, cause
Mr Mr can't touch me
Winter winter and something
Pavin a way for my name in the game
Hatin the blame but I can't stay away
Blister blister and hugging
Dinner dinner no loving
Makin them exterminate the fame so they can see me the same
When the chain go away
Fight at the top it's a bird fight now
Night never stop till the hurt die down
Not gonna drop till the first day out
Problem is fought, you in third place now
Every single time that I rhyme I'm committing a crime because I'm murdering these beats
We treating the game like it's game seven and we the underdogs who never had a lead
Even though we may seem tame we ain't ate, we see steak, and we hungry
Out working you 24/7 ain't nobody ever once getting close to touching me
Talk quietly and carry big stick
Walk opposite of lightly and married to the business
High as shit and J's soon to be on my feet wanna be like Miley in this bitch
Truthfully I can't run off drama
It's the rhymes that fuel me
I'm refusing the proposition that I gotta get wit the times or else they will elude me
Maybe I'm supposed to be nicer but why when I could just hire a guy to write nice lines for me
Maybe that would work for you in your life but that would kinda be like torture towards me
I'd hate to see the time I spent working on my craft for it to turn from morbid and corny
To something that you'd enjoy a little too much and then hoard it from me, cause
Mr Mr can't touch me
Winter winter and something
Pavin a way for my name in the game
Hatin the blame but I can't stay away
Blister blister and hugging
Dinner dinner no loving
Makin them exterminate the fame so they can see me the same
When the chain go away
Fight at the top it's a bird fight now
Night never stop till the hurt die down
Not gonna drop till the first day out
Problem is fought, you in third place now
Dropping a lot but it's her brain wow
Vodka is talking ima burn right down
On the John since the first case filed
Häagen-Dazs finna stir right round

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