I'm sitting in a locked cage, whining in ink all over the page, if you do it right it gets better with age. Never the flow though, either you got it or you don't, either or f**ing k** it or you choke. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't stand any of you rappers thinking that you're competetion. I don't need no moeny, I am the only motherf**er out here that I'm tyring to impress. So while you putting on that makeup, mascara all f**ed up, you tryna make up. I can't wait for the day when you say that he ain't worth it, finally realize ain't no body perfect, but that brain perfect, late night tutor. Hey Brett Michael, heard a rumour that she tryna do ya. Yeah, tongue different, she a spanish major, said I wanna see you after cla** for bad behavior, or maybe its how you dressing. Give me the salad, I got the dressing. Take it back to the crib, undressing, caressing, girl let me let you know. If uno of us tryna tango I can make it dos, one and one ain't three but we came close, had to pull out late, I was late for work, laying there you remembering whiy you hate the jerk. Come home drunk, smash leave early, lucky if you hear from him by three thirty, but you staying with him cause he got some cheddar, I just hope you realize I do it better . . . you know I do it better