People
Want to
Know what
I do
Write about
Each day
I suppose
I just
Describe
The creatures
In one's
Attic space
I don't got a favorite style
I do what the beat beckons
Always been wary of smiles
Specially from Sirens
I've been called bibliophile
(Seeing what page reckons)
At the feast of wisdom
Man, I go back for my seconds
All of the venom is not an anomaly
Know it's indicative of a disease
I have been looking around for the comedy
Midst all the filth and the pestilent fleas
Oh my, had to scrape some people up from my floor
So I could deliver them back to their own door
Funny how good liquor can eliminate the senses
Couple downed shots and they're messing up decor
And I got a message for the housing authorities
Your enforcement is so filled with big holes and deformities
I, keep the club bouncing like Tigger
Fie, many don't keep the same vigor
Sigh, little things can really get bigger
If you got a problem try to pull the fucking trigger
Listen, I don't want to have an attitude
So I'll try to say this without even being rude
I don't want to be that person rejoicing in ostracization
But won't you see the fucking enemies accrued
Please
I do not want your advice
I'm more obliged to throw my bloody dice
Than listen to someone who's not in the trenches
Please name me a coach who instructs from the benches
Said this before, happily, I'll say it again
If you don't understand the truth coming out of my pen
Then I do suggest you put on your reading glasses
Wouldn't understand me if I fucking spoke molasses
Listen to me
That's not a strike to the ones who don't get it at first
It's a strike to the ones who drink the most and have the least of thirst
It's a reproach of the hungry roach that tries to spoil kitchen goods
It's a castigation of the wolves that roam within the woods
When I was younger, didn't have that many friends
And I pushed all through my hunger so I could, my field, till
Then I got older, and you know how the path bends
Well the only hunger I now have is for the fucking quill
I don't got a favorite style
I do what the beat beckons
Always been wary of smiles
Specially from Sirens
I've been called bibliophile
(Seeing what page reckons)
At the feast of wisdom
Man, I go back for my seconds
Gloom, when I came out the womb
But I made the best of my gilded tomb
Doom, at the bottom of life's flume
Fee-fi-fo-fum, giants need room
Don't need a gold chain
Just want a bigger, bigger crowd
For the arcane runes that I been sprayin'
And yes I do want brain
But I'm talking 'bout the one in head
Not the one for which you're prayin'
I, keep the club bouncing like Tigger
Fie, many don't keep the same vigor
Sigh, little things can really get bigger
If you got a problem try to pull the fucking trigger