I have been unfortunate enough,to have a source of giving up
I am a loner by stats, statistics match my distant past
But picture that,one out of one sixty six sad isn't it
Collab in the mix, with a pad with his sick, deranged lunatic
Youthful spit, teenage angst, demean these strengths
So what can he do, in a world and the rhyme hes lost in a tune
Hide and coughing up fluid, blood and spitting his new shit
Lose it's confusing touch, feel my medulla bust, never the cooler bunch
They make me lose my lunch,and i can't speak words retired
But my writings are desired, an energetic quiet riot
As to socialize, i don't live a social life, I think crazy like ropes and knives
And most despise, even thinking my cited madness like Michael Savage
Is lies and drags with, societies average, complying to that which
I continue story rapping, i glory actions, of the more in action
Would love to be a person, that can act in life, i cant do that for life
Im a maniac in strife, that caves in at the sight, of a fight of socialites
