Author Information
My Life
I’m twisted, dark, and sick.
I got problems a mathematician can’t fix.
You can’t solve the puzzle, can’t figure out this riddle.
This goes out to all you pricks.
I got skill.
I’m the bomb.
But who’s paying the bills?
My mom.
I’m struggling to live,
But I couldn’t give,
Two shits about all your money and fancy cars.
I just look to the stars,
For some sort of meaning.
But god isn’t looking back at me, the stars are just gleaming.
I’d like to believe one day I’ll be doing fine and okay.
To that I say,
Fuck it, will it ever happen?
I just spend each day.
Getting high and rappin.
At least I try to spit it.
I hope you get it.
If you don’t like this shit,
You must like Lil Wayne and Drake.
Those niggas are fake.
Illimunati gave them a hit,
CD and career.
When each day I’m living like it’s my last out of fear.
I don’t have money, a car, or fancy house.
You’re the pussy and I’m the mouse.
You’re drinking milk handed to you out of a silver bowl.
I’m stealing cheese from all these hopeless souls.
I feel bad, but I gotta survive.
It’s no surprise,
That all these whack rappers spitting these lies.
They got their turn and now it’s my time,
To shine.
And spit nothing but truth in my rhyme.
I can go on all night about this game.
Put all these mainstream rappers to shame,
But they don’t even know my name.
What’s the point? I’ll never make it big.
I’ll just keep writing this shit and hopefully get a Tech or Hopsin gig.
