My rhymes when their written still appeal to illeterates
Every little bit of all the shit i spit is infinite
The number of people I've broken and chopped into pieces
Is endless like the number of posthumorus Tupac releases
Deceased but still breathing through a feeding tube artificially
Doomed to a life of blinking and twitching incoherently
Cheery screeching down the freeway into a searing pain
Freezing rain, speeding through the angst by smoking Mary Jane
In moderation I can be taken without serious complications
As long as it's at a ration level that doesn't cause chest pain
Vainly trying to retain memories I need to sustain
In order to quell the pain that's plainly driving me insane
Inane, going the wrong way down the wrong lane
Leading the cops on a high speed chase through multiple states
Facing felony charges, from grand theft auto to larceny
I know I'm going to hell so someone's coming along with me

(written to the Hellbound beat)