Teenage boy sitting on his bed
Thinking up rhymes all the time
If you were in my shoes
You'd have a lot going through your mind
Taking it out on a drum beat
A through to zee, thats complete
I'm white like pie crust
Why rap, cos I must
Simply put- its poetry in motion
You're straight from the can
I'm fresh from the ocean
Plenty more fish in the sea though
But not quite like me bro
I'll roll out red carpets
Five star is my target
Aiming for best in the market
I'll never give ya beef
Even if you ask for it
Available for take out
So you can bring home the bacon
Why not dine with g, there's a fine table waiting
Ink leaking onto the page like an oil slick
This type of creativity, ya can't foil it
But state schools always manage to spoil it
(Put that in your pipe and smoke it)
Tar and nicotine, up in a jib-jab
Trip on that like slippery tiles beneath your flip-flops
Poison your lungs
Til... sh** stops