Who am I biting?

https://www.bandlab.com/post/a7ccf2e...3-bcfcc9f7fa1a

I love writing. Have zero idea about how to actually write raps.
would appreciate the tips.

i feel like im biting? But I’m not sure. I just flow with what/who influences me at the time.

anything here worth working with and if you wanna reach out please HMU. I just like to write.
clearly just walking through this and talking it out.
Advice? Thoughts? Am I just biting?

lyrics:

Wifey Hustle

Ssshhhhhppphhhfffuck..‘it’s ten o’clock…. what the fuck to do….might hastily place the pins; pace a block or two.
trace to lose like ex-users in an interviews, so my socks with the foil to not give blues clues.

North or South?…I go west.
I like ta move unpredictably;
Re-use some old territory.

Be out before the bounce.
Fuck that Thomas Foolery.
Cased a house…Sourced the inventory.
Maimed the spouse,, Unsafed the jewellery.

Bless a chain in to a bums cup,, just the G in me.
Got these cops crossed up, now D’s lookin for two of me.

This is what happened to that one child who got left behind.
Things that should’ve snapped him adapted him to a life of crime.
Tricks that could’ve trapped him now trained him in to a mastermind.
Now the stakes have been raised to chairs instead of doing time.

So listen when I tell you that I speak fluently Bellevue,
truancy in plain view,
missin’ from the roll…cue…

now I’ve been sizing up these screws shoes, stats and their acts.
Waiting for their backs, beating bats to their hats. Snatching up the cache - kicks, keys and some green-backs.
Knuckled Netto a pound and told him “thanks for the facts”.

Grounds free; im down-town bound,
quack sneakers; bare-ass’in blue gown,
Screaming ladies and barking dogs and I’m jumping cracks to save my mother’s back.
Moons rising to sleeping babies;
lurking fog beyond sneaking aviaries.
Bird seeded I’m crouching down im lips to ass and I’m Hailing Mary’s.
High tailing to my baby Hailies,
Jump scaling these rows of palings. Bursting in and I’m burned out, And I’m blurting ‘bout some shoot out.
Defaults to wife mode; quick shit shower shave and a change of clothes.
Get a go-bag, throwing smoke screens,
Not a question asked, just angel things.
Decoys of cops shot, misdirection to the wrong spot. Lost locations to winding roads then microwaves the telephones.
3 hours through road cones and deploys of dog bones to dead ends for FED-mutts who’s inspections unfold,,
conducts that speculate,,
accusations that implicate,,
Associations to known locations directly tied by time to major crime waves.

Engine cuts to the boots latch,
Gasping light ‘till my sternum cracks,
Decision cuts to which ruts to track and I’m lead bush-bash to the hanger hatch.
Observations of grounded flights and fuel stations with full gauges.
Conversations; hounding pilots,
wielding knives while keeping quiet.

Slacks slapping on tarmac,,
Marching flymen by pricked back,,
bags packed with chutes that trap sky with blue hope to.
Execute a flying rope-a-dope from shotgun instead of crammed in coach, from an odd one to a weirdo to an F.O with goal to go,
with a wing-queen with dream gleam got this team dreamed and the scene cleaned.
Between seas schemed to what trace to lead,
to which axe we’ll need, to which seeds to bring.
Calls 90 seconds to the jump tree and asks “are we leaving these witnesses”?
I got no mind, it’s go time, but you should see H.P in her G-String . Dayum

https://www.bandlab.com/post/a7ccf2e...3-bcfcc9f7fa1a