Leer my words, and 'head' my thoughts, I'm light-years ahead, but my rhythm still ain't hearing in court,
I stop drop, and roll on the floor laughin at my passion, to be a rapper, when my bars is pact in tighter than a genocide slaughter,
I'm just an author, in a best selling novel, about selling out to the the father, while the mothers always the one dealing with my problems,
It ain't right, but you are what you wright, and the fight continues between the pen and my Mic, the left and the right,
The good and the bad, the sound is so sad, I'm young and I'm restless as, a new booty on the block, equipped with nothing more than some ass,
The brass knuckles, buckle against punching bags, the heavy-weight champ, I guess he can't beat a thought as light as a lamp,
I clamp a tight grasp to life, get through it in spite, of trials and tribulations that come in the form of vacations, a quick lick my ass, that shits 30 to life,
And I ain't tryna have ballsy ass wife, I ain't too bright, but my semi luminous skin, will keep me safe from the night,
A bright skinned nigger, from the city where the wolves howl is bigger, than the buildings that lock them out, and still can't figure what they crying about,
A redundant situation, when you live as the patient, who holds no patience, for waitin on strangers, to wade you through danger,
This ain't no "Fraiser," but I talk big from anger, cause Google teaches better than strangers,
An educational misconception, the rhymes are idiotic contraceptive, but all his friends graduated except him,
The acceptance speeches were beautiful, too bad none of em truthful, half of the A honor roll, was rolling residual blunts of dro too,
A typical "HIGH" school, the only slept on subject, how too much smokin just ain't cool....
[ Post made via Mobile Device ]
