I'm not mysterious I'm boring get to know the fucking difference
thats why when you be yapping i'll be quite content to listen
Don't ask me what I'm up to. I'll save you time tell you now
I'm curled up in a ball sleeping long and weeping loud
my cream expired months ago I drink my coffee black
and my piggy bank has starved to death and he's never coming back
i rap to drive drums that I done and made bangers
and i make the beats ill as an outlet for the anger
I'm surrounded by a broken homes white folks in droves
Walking Talking TV tropes. An identity on the ropes
Alive clock face but just a teensy less expressive
a repressive adolescence left an undeserved depression
So I'm bumping "we ain't fessin'" let's undo this first impression.
And the second third and fourth ones an infinite regression
To complete and total stranger lets rewrite the fucking history
Some names stay the same but the story stays a mystery
stay listening to decayed Americana with Obama idle hands they wander but the adage rings true
And if I never knew you then I guess I'm not your friend anymore so there's the door but in my core I'm not new
I'm an outsider in a world with no doors. Does that make me more or less the same as these zombies making moves?
Fuck you of course not I sit atop the trash heap penthouse deluxe duplex weak artists getting suplexed
fuck this explosive damaging my whole chest nose mouth vocal cords
deserve awards for all these words
all y'all move in herds while I'm doing the beats like murderous bean curd. y'all been served.
and for the carnivores i'll bring the beef any day
With Brivta or chain, a nozh scrap any time you say
you look a bit tired.
Bedways is rightways so just go the fuck home