I'm so high...
Looking at the ceiling gonna paint a green sky...
Gotta funny feeling like I might die...
Paranoid, can't stop looking out the corner of my eye...
And I write rhymes, to pass time,
In the night time,
Cause my mind, I just can't, sleep...
And it's simple as that,
Simple as single syllable spitting, on a boom bap beat...
So battle me, battle me...
Cause what ya hear in my tracks aint exactly what you'll meet...
I aint tryna eat, i aint tryna leach...
I get off on others on the rap games teat...
I aint tryna hear no feed...
Just doing me, give a motherfuck what you think...
Young cunt twistin stank...
Going hard in the paint, mike J...

Suicidal speed, gotta suicidal need...
and I gotta a fucked feel, from a grave too deep...
Going hard as you wouldn't believe...
Fucking up my jaw cause I'm grinding my teeth...
You don't want beef, speak a kings defeat...
Seeking heat, off these pussys feet as they run away from me...
Yall are mistaken me, I aint talking on mics...
I'm walking on knives, fucking stalking the night...
16 living off rice, in a home by myself...
smoking cones with no wealth...
Living through a living hell...
Didn't wanna ask my olds for help...
Cause I had a job, and theyd know where the money went...

Cash I spent on drugs, for what?
Cause my shits fucked up, so I get fucked up...
And then cause of that shits more fucked up...
Man shits fucked up, just my luck...
Swear we all gonna be on the come up...
Already getting there, steady moving heavy gear....
And I'ma pull all my fam up...
Cause shit was getting heavy there, now its looking heaven clear...
Yeah, now it's looking heaven clear...
But it's always so far but so near...
Never quite right there...
Running in the suns glare...
Giving all I can spare...
Continues journey, destination everywhere...
Guess you can't place me anywhere...
Mean I fit in nowhere, go stare...
All eyez on me motherfucker...
Suck my D motherfucker...
I'm out this beat my bruddaa...

And back with this one...
Cause I'm on that next son...
Hip-hop is dead, fuck resurrection...
I'm coming through the wire, got a good connection...
And hes telling me I'm wired,
And to stop my flex'n...
Putting out shitty songs,
And seeking attention...
Cause the scene aint feeling it,
Shift direction,
Go back to boom bap,
Good intention,
But its all food for thought,
Fuck what you thought,
Fuck what you bought,
That shits a bore,
Them dude try to bite my shit n break they jaw...
Dey got bad butthurt, man kids sore,
Kids saw, my shits raw,
I pull pieces on them bitches like Quick Draw, McGraw,
Then leach on they women and give em the what for,
They raps get cut short,
They cars aint paid for,
And all they doing bitching bout the music, like my neighbors...