The more that I write the more that I find I'm locked inside this f**ing cage I'm in. Yes entertainment is the life but you are wrong and yes I'm right I paid the price. You sat back stoned I light a pipe. Just want to sit back and relax but these fans want some raps from the new guy. Why does it have to be true god damn. To young not a lot of story's to tell so I ramble on and rhyme. It's hard to define my words. Cause the stutters blocking out the cold tune of misery. Decent black top has given me tar red rum and roses why the solders play there symphony. 21 gun solute I tilt my hat down don't look into my eyes. d**h lurks in the background. Look I don't give a sh**. This f**ers stupid. I'm locked up I'm on shrooms so I widdle a stick. And make a point. I might stab through my temple. But the poison on the metal of the bars that hold me in my place one day I might escape if not tonight. f*ggot. Loose but hold on and just fight. Like for the rest of your life. Or give up. You devils reject. I'm lying my a** of to everyone In respect. Cause if I told the truth. You wouldn't know what to do. Or how to Handel the booze and the epic flow of a cold tune
(Chorus)
Until you tell me that my insulins toxic
I'll be eating spinach and watch it I'll be in the hall pa**ed out diabetic blood on the wall
sh**
Ahh
sh**
Dog
sh**
fu*k Just call a medic
This f**ing headaches pathetic 8 or 9 anistedic
And even then I still fret it
The very moment you let it take over the past and your left with nothing but a pen and a pad
(Punch line)
Ahh I had it
You lost it
f** you
You must think that your hot sh** your not sh**
Nothing
I'm something new a f**ing rocket ship
But that's not new technology
If you follow the way I rhyme my words it's like psychology and your worlds collide
It's lyrical suicide like do or die
Again back to suicide
I'm falling right through the ceiling I hope that I hurt your feelings
Mentally destroy your well being. And leving you bleeding
Piles of downers but I'm the one that got in your head
I'm the reason your screaming
Some people call me a Demond
In simpler terms they just don't like my music
It's leaving em heated
Well the more demonic I sound the more little motherf**es be listing to M1 and feeling my pain feeling the way I talk about nothing simpler than my own world whats going on today
But that's what they all say
I'm different
No you ain't
We all the same
Think your a saint
Others think your satan
(Oh lord. Rap is the devils music. He's resurrected. Back again to choose him. Another pimpin motherf**er just to spit the tight rhymes like M1 and then get high up in the night time. Hhmmm. I guess that's not that bad)
(Chorus)