Aww this rap thing, im dreaming i want to be famous
My mind is painted, im thinkin i am one of the sickest
While some describe me as killin as WACO, it aint texas
This text is half skilled and half Rap yo, it aint reckless
I begged Rap to be my mother but i woke up as an orphan
I know there is only a few ones but why cant i be choosen
My life is like New York on 911, crashed
If Rap was a ocean then i would be a splash
I feel locked up behind theese bars
But its healing me when i breeze art
Because today is morose and so wil be tomorrow
Death become more close but i still do mourn slow
Aww this rap thing, i want to stop dreaming
I wish that my dreams end, i dont want to be famous
One word to describe how fame makes you feel, shame is