I'm calmly sittin on da corner/
my mind hazy/
cats be spittin 4 some booty/
I'm too lazy/
while notes coalesce in my head and the cess starts sinking in/
I'm thinking I'm depressed and gotta stop binge drinking/
but it aint my fault being displaced from society/
because I think different with the spirit of a giant B/
I be that punk who's fuckin creativity/
can't get nowhere and still I'm whipped like ice scream/
I scream in my mind/
my trained eye still observin/
the sign of the times engraved and metaphors keep reverbin/
I'm still the analyst, the historian, the economist, the poet/
and my often drunk mug betrays, in a phrase , doen't show it/

Much years span before/
I was dope and so raw, I thought/
hungry and inspired by constant writing I had to be da shit without a doubt/
with my dreads I filled heads with unique perspectives/
elected metaphors and similes as my representatives/
some word was spoken/
some thought my sh*t was golden/
some thought my sh*t was broken/
and my dreams of gift-wrapped fame unfolded.../

Nothing came out while ideas still spouting from my mouth and the noose tightens round my neck, still can't fuck with this golden goose/
subjects of thought pass and go/
dey don't know what I go through/
I take a next sip to clear my thoughts to later write a verse or two.

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