Drive to Aspire

ImageI bet my life on the slots, and I don’t mean to name drop but if you are Dirty Harry then why do you need to call the cops?

Torturing the masses like Pol Pot, Spewing superior to you lot as my liver rots

Living on the budget but don’t mind the hole in my cot Supreme?

I think not, I’m just bending syllables to make life livable As prospects of the future become bigger, I bet on your demise with impressive figures Not the prodigal son, undisputed king of the litter

Used to be autumn now its winter, took a laxative and know I’m defecating librettos on the shitter

Had a background check looking valid, the roof is on fire but I’m to busy feasting on competition with a side of salad.

I’ve got an ace in my pocket beside my wocket; I stand parallel to the baseball bat coming for your eye socket

Perpendicular to the struggle, above average, my mother used to push around a savage in the baby carriage, ready to ravage but right now I have to focus on food on the table and keeping on the cable, don’t give a fuck if you’re able to do things now that I can’t

My present is the future, so return to your hill little Ant

We know the true story, its pitch black and we’re blindly chasing glory

It’s not ok to hear my mother cry at night, breaking nails to hang onto the Edge of the Earth

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t made it on my birth, other times I feel like the chosen one

Disturbed by the billing and the economical killing, smiling in denial of the payments stacking up in a towering pile, enough to make me suicidal

The fantasy is dead; the Reality has been read, holding on to the future by a crack

I write the fiction, while the aftermath spells the facts

I’m living with a purpose because I swear my endeavors are perpendiculars to your verses my mind is thirsty for knowledge and creative visions

I’m hiking up my ambition with a pistol to my temple, the future is so bright because the mathematics are displayed so clear and the critics are dreaming simple

Passed off as a fool, but now I use the doubt as my tool

Writing novels with a noose around my neck and one foot on the stool

Fuck what’s cool; new horizons are the contradiction because I’m writing facts while your persona is laced with fiction

Speaking simple diction, I’ve got something for the friction

Sweating with full exposure, I hear the competition had some openings before I brought them to a closure

Success was written but these months call for full composure

Corrupted the times, abstract rhymes that snort lines with haste

Spit out ill shit because they don’t like the taste

While most of the world copy and pastes, I’m charging with velocity because I don’t have time to give you a chance, the power’s going off so in the dark your stanzas dance and while you are prancing and standing where I’d like to be, As the darkness sweeps through the city, I defy poverty and pity as a trendy oddity with the ingenuity to play on your inadequacy

My future depends on me

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