Played out, way off yah radar, they doubt till I'm laying in the quasars, raw as a motherfucker word to the other man, armed with the sun above us, we’re just the son of man, Rhymesayers at Scribble Jam, fine player you be the middle man, meet me between death, why yah always gotta seemed stressed, living to see checks, that ain’t the way follow me, all that’s left in these hollow days of grief, she’d rather play in the sheets, I just wanna make a beat, that’s my creative need, astrology is horse shit, maybe I’m too morbid, but your opinions and beliefs are cute but don’t mean nothing to me, do what yah love though I’m very contradictive, down with the buttery slickness, till the day I fry I’m a wonder why we’re spinning on this earth, pre birth crisis, done feeling lifeless, what I gotta do to let you know I’m the nicest.

Take me now I wanna feel, where the birds do sing and nothing’s real
Free as the man, made of pain, with an empty heart and a bogus name,

Dark as the lime light, all cos I rhyme tight, may you find strength in these hard times, the good, the bad, the beautiful, I’ll take my usual, unsuitable for children, building on millions like the franchise player, handing out these tapes like I’m running for mayor, vigilante with the taser’s, still working at staples stacking all that paper, with a face full of craters, driving the bus I got bout 10 haters.