[Verse one]
The heart-stopper
Right ventricle exerciser
Stream-of-consciousness style writer
William Faulkner
It takes me back to the days when I would out of Borders
With my hands in my pockets
Couple albums in my boxers
Type of sh** that you could snap to
Shake your a** to
That the fellas can puff-puff-and-pa** to
You're on my arm and ain't coming off like a tattoo
Gave me your number and I ain't even have to ask you
The possibilities are endless
Jumping through hoops to get in this business
Walking tightropes like Olympic gymnasts
Nothing can break my concentration
Taking life as a gamble like Native Americans on reservations
Been popping that unprescribed medication
Before my days as an adolescent
Before I started leaving bad impressions on teachers
Without having a reason
And Dr. Gidoni called me to schedule a consultation
But every time that I try to be transparent
I just get hate for the fact that I have merits
People laugh and then blame it on wack lyrics
But when I call them out in a battle rap they act embarra**ed
(I don't get it)
Bullies used to leave my eyes swollen purple
But today it feels like a role reversal for ol' Urkel
I just keep tapping to the beat
Treat the 1200 like a potter's wheel
Mold my clay into a masterpiece
[Verse two]
I've seen smokers who used to be like my best friends
Turn their f**ing backs on me the second I quit
We're talking brothers
My regiment
You disrespect him and we've got a problem
I'd'a took one to the chest for this kid
But whatever
f** him
I guess the final lesson is this:
Teach yourself to forgive ‘cause real friends don't exist
You want to put your posse to the test?
Put down the spliff
And after a month of that, go see how many still make the list
[Chorus]
People talk sh** and don't expect a consequence
I'm sick of all of it
But you don't have a problem with
The world we're living in today
‘til I put it on exhibition or display
People talk sh** and don't expect a consequence
I'm sick of all of it
But you don't have a problem with
The world we're living in today
‘til I…
[Verse three]
Dead serious, dog; I'm ‘bout to lose it
You're holding a dynamite powder-keg with the fuse lit
No time to talk it over, we're beyond that
You really thought you could walk all over me
And I wouldn't do sh**?
Sorry partner, that's not the way that it works
If you're seeking forgiveness at this point, save it for church
‘cause you ain't gonna get it
And I can go the distance
Tighten my hands around your throat like boa constrictors
For disrespecting me to my back
You can't pop off and not expect me to react
b**h, I was this close to calling you kindred
Now I realize I never should have f**ed with you to begin with
So watch as a maniacal, wickedly diabolical
Pill expert leaves you pharmaceutically comatose
Inject your unconscious body with a stronger dose
Until your head hurts from all the pressure
And you start to choke