Im a monster metophorically.
attackin from under the bed of rappers borin me.
formally curing wack rap I got the quorantine
Morbid dreams stalk my mental shceme till the point of forfiting.
fortanely i aint the quitta type.
Hold the grittiest mic, turn stages to a hideous sight
considerthis mine, spit a fine rhyme, fuck a 5 minutes of shine my lyrics bind time, coming from a grime mind i say this worlds ugly
A Bunch of pussies in hip hop where the thugs be?
cuz i aint bout pop crisstal for yall to love me.
I dont need platnum chains for girls fuck me.
this must mean, real emcees will never pump cream.
I quit dealin to the bum fiends, God damn, 9 to 5 got me chewing nails till they raw hands, but I guess God plans to make me somethin.
Grew up the from the dumbshit, I know cash aint a worth a dime when th'e gun spits.
My tougne spits the raw form of Writing.
Seeing me beat is a rare sighting.
Living up in the AtHell got me all alone cyphing.
No b-boys, no breaking this town is fuckin amazing.
you can catch on the marta train, silent just gazing
Chillin wit my rhyme books, Buzzin off the dank smoke.
Hit you wit you right hook, Guzzle down the fake folk.
I trying to rake dough
Trying to bomb to city hall cause thats where the snakes go.
Disinigrating the fake flow, hit me with your best shit best believe I break those.
Im a cali bread kid forced in the east coast.
so yo, I love the music that I do but Ill never break my balls trying sell my fuckin mixtape to you.
I see through glamer and glitz, groupies flashin tits.
Fuck a flashy wrist, I dont rhyme for that shit
I rather rhyme for the kids.
cause guess who gonna run this bitch in 20 years.
I can feel and see acomplishment but still im not near.
Feeling like im being judged in a jury of my peers.
smoking weed, standing in the rain just to hide the tears.