I’ve come to the conclusion writing isn’t in my destiny.
It was meaningless, all the memories of it expecting it to be meant to be.
I know rewinding time is useless if your eyes aligned won’t remember me.
Especially, since all that’s left for me are right-wing celebrities.
I philosophize, about victories and how I skipped on the prize.
Shits locked inside, like constipated pockets dried.
Houston, we have a problem, comparable to foster’s slides.
My #1 was a fluke, hey at least the copper tried. I was never a baby, mama, the doctor lied.
I need a light like the board that the proctor shines, fuck that.
My life started at 20 like a touchback.
Which means I’ve only been living for 24 months.
But I’ve been smoking for 72, at least plenty more blunts,
would substitute for the disease any stretchy whore grunts,
I haven’t got a break yet, can someone please get me more lunch?
and 2012 here, shit, God can you please let me tour once?
I exited the back whenever any storm struck,
For all the entrances my messy dorm lucked,
I just hope on that morning they’ll regret and mourn us.
I’m saying, the recipe to success is an open secret.
I wanted to be RUN DMC, I should’ve worn adidas.
My mother no longer thins I was born a genius.
Cause I don’t have any balls anymore and the door just broke my penis.
I adored the weakness, of being stored on the floor, in a position comparable to a homeless fetus.
A lonely behemoth rose to the shore of beaches.
Only to ignore the performance of his important agreements.
Bitch please, you know how many individuals I no longer speak with?
I hope that I’m an elephant but with a lion’s scruff.
And these movies will help me transform into Shia Lebaeuf.
All the lies I construct, should be held hostage in private for brunch.
Before rhinoceros punks,
Try to apply my demise for a prize in a cup, fuck it, I’m not snitching you’re better off letting me die in the trunk.
I’m sick of doing the saving, sometimes I just want to feel like private ryan for once.
Have people come and try to protect me from harm.
Instead of deadly retards questioning my every arm.
Waking up to every alarm.
I know I gotta wake up, I’m just waiting for the perfect moment,
why do you think I was resting at prom?
Bitches trying to lock me up saying ‘but you look sexy in orange.’
Sometimes I just want to quit and say forget trying.
Or just lie about thinking I’ll go undefeated like Rex Ryan.
Fuck it, you know what? I’m the next giant.
No more getting hickeys from depressed clients,
I regret em so much I feel like my neck’s cryin’
It’s time to approach life from a different view.
I’ve been ridiculed in interviews
but I won’t stop answering the questions that I have no idea what to sentence to.
See that was a grammatical error.
Fuck writing. I stick to rhyming because with rapping I’m better.
I’m fluent, and congruent.
And the biggest difference? Rest assure or rest to it.
There’s another planet out there that will accept us distressed students.
But unlike Nasa,
With rap I don’t have enough space to invest in ex-cuses.
