this is a verse i pre-writ about a week ago, pre-writing is cool


wake up in the morning and i ask myself///////////
is life worth living should i blast myself//////
Still i see no ChAnges, all i see is racist faces/////////////////
misplaced hate brings disgrace to races////
something something something, penetentiary////////
something something something, black president/////\\\\\\
In da club, bottle full a bub\\\\\
bottle fulla bub.... uhhhh.... in the club\\\\\\\\\\\
and moby? you can get stomped by obie/////////////////
50 cent is cool, my gangsta friends told me/////////////////////////
poet is a poet that is crap like shakespeeeer///
i like chips, and also, i like beer, but poet said he hates beer///
he is queer////////////////
deer//////
steer////////
near//
get into gear/
appear///////
man, go take pills/////
youll die, and get killed//////////////////////////
because of my skill///////////////////////////////////////////////////
it is rill (real)////////////////////////
mic check////////
and i am not wack(you have to say it like weck, then it is flowing.)/////
man, yo, yo o yo yo yo yo, your dimes are not as fine as mine (as in i have more money)///////
nigga, yo, fuckin, bro, dime (thats a personal diss to his name, 11!!11!!!!)///
motherfucker/////////
i will make you throw up/////
fuckin, yo my thug niggas blast gats to you, and then you are dead because that is what i say until another day///
and then you are dead, and i dance on your carcuss, and grave, until you are disrespected by my thug niggas bottle full of bub, gay ///
50 cent///
spent//
rent//
lent//
//