I ride in the coupe following my caprice, this isnt a festival its a feast

When it comes to swag i may have the least, but my pen can unleash a fucking beast. Never discreet, always poetic, ill never be the same, my reign is electric. My daddy used to say my mom was going to die, enough to make a sensitive boy cry. I always asked god why? I didnt even recieve a lie. Hit me again nigga, ill turn you to meat pie

Now im on the road to success, leaving the streets where conventional criminals oppress. I pack my enigma, the stigma, nothing less. Critics and nightmares can second guess, ive got 1200 fans and im far from my best. With my mom i was blessed, She told me it was the dreams i had to chase, to drop bombs on the horizon im so eager to erase. Ten years later murder was the case.

Assimillate the vocabulary to decimate, i told my mom i wanted to get my cut, she said to mutilate. If this book takes over, Strawberry Grandin can legislate. Never hesitate to pontificate, never humiliate just eliminate.

Ive been in the shit, both shoulders broken but i climbed out the pit. Genetics gave me my grandma’s ability to be It, fate passed down my grandpa’s wit. Enough fastidious blows and youll never be able to sit. I was in hell getting fit, my demons growing old. Geriatric, no longer bold. I gave them a sweater, my hell was becoming cold. Its 18 years since my soul was sold.

My poems became brutal, some said vicious, Satan became suspicious as i served my dish. He was rather judicious, but he ate his balls calling them delicious. Im angry, proud, sick to the definite, my nights will always be near the streetlight. Im ambitious, kiss my ass, call me malicious

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