aight im just gonna start writin and see where it takes me


not happy, not sad, just depressed and numb/
rotten mad manifested in this run/
becoming angry with no feeling, robbing a bum/
and i'll bum around 'til my album comes around/
but i aint holdin' my fuckin' breath/
i can rap and i can rip it to ribbons 'til there's not a drop of ink left from my pen's confession/
when it's lyin dead on it's death bed, i had a premonition/
of no fame, cuz i cant be what the world wants/
refuse to sing bout bling bling, dubs and guns/
fake gangstas rep mac-10's, AK's for fun/
shit i should get more street cred from squirting a water gun/
fuck fake bling, fuckin' cubic zarconium/
gets me pissed til im convinced that life's a fluke/
makes me sick til i sit and i PUKE!.../
the one girl that i ever truly ever wanted/
is the one girl whos future daughter i could never truly ever father/
i cant get weak in the knees when i speak to her.../
cuz my knees are broken 'fore i even look at her.../
i live my life minute-to-minute constantly waiting for 8:11am.../
see the devils grin cuz im sinning-to-sin, with a knife to feel again/
can this blade end the Hooligan?/
dont know but willin' to try again & again & again/
'til my hands come the fuck off.../
cant get a girl to break my heart/
so i pull it out myself and rip it apart/
burn it til the ashes are permanently dissolved in the ground forever/
that way the earth will forever feel my agony/
this cant be happening to me/
wheres the congregation of my Hooliganation/
to come & praise me and lift my self esteem, luv my homies/
in rehab cuz im a dic ryder fiend/
hows this bitch threaten castration/
when my nuts already disapeared from my constant masterbation/
im just nuttin puffs of dust, too much lust/
no longer beatin off get off but beatin my dick off to put it in the ground/
but my hearts already there/
so instead i shake my cock in the air/
screaming out loud "GOD I NO LONGER FUCKING CARE!!"/
would be poppin Prozac by the bottle/
but pain's my only fodder to father hotter/
drops that are more repetitive then g's that roc proda/
so this is my truth volume one/
my hand is infected with carpal tunnel syndrome so i guess im done/
and im done folks/
and im done.


sorry it ended up bein so long but u know
how it goes
please if u went to the trouble of reading this
go to the trouble of responding
i will return the favor
thx