I’ve been blackmailed, caught red-handed Been green with envy and blue due to sadness I tell a lot of white lies cause I’m yellow to the core I’m in a violent environment like a violet in a storm I try to perform, to a sellout crowd But my songs are just me calling myself out loud I can’t get through a couple bars without feeling the guilt I say I tell you everything but there is so much that still I conceal So the human race is in ruins Because humans love to condemn other humans for being human Ha, where do we learn this behavior, it’s not improvement It’s detrimental, are we consuming it through communion? Put my entire being up for sale, it was sold within minutes No contract with a major label, so independent A couple hundred thousand bars, a couple were the difference That took me from a widower to a cuckold with a mistress Find the purveyor of worldly evil and beat his face in Going to take your nightmare drawn darkest and recreate it Always getting reacquainted with a chord or a rope So are you going to hang yourself or be divorcing your phone? These calls, and texts are a ball of stress Forgot how to live or even walk, I’ma just crawl to death (Heroine Cloud), born a miracle, little later die quiet Entire life a phone or screen and being hypnotized by it Yeah, everybody has their ducks in a row But everything seemingly perfect is dysfunctional growth Having your own opinion at all will get you punched in the throat And having said that - I have this under control

Everyone seems to know what happens when you die, but you know what (I don’t know) And since every religion is correct, let me go ahead and tell you that (I don’t know) And since you have existence figured out and you understand everything (I don’t know) I guess God existing or not is so obvious, but forgive me (I don’t know) Another sheet of paper, another release of anger If you don’t like it I’ll meet you in person And when you piss me off I’ll have you tell me which one of these is safer I have a tendency to use my fits of anger to rearrange your Faith, outlook of life, and view from the top I’m trying to make it possible for you to survive What if Jesus had never gotten Judas Involved? Would the outcome have ruined us all? I have passion for what I do, but I keep making more trouble I practice what I preach but often I have sore knuckles I have a difficult time remaining calm when I’m upset Oh, how easy it is for the rich to die in a pile of debt You learn that most of the time a smile’s deceptive It’s hard to dwell when your mind’s moving a mile a second There’s no time to think, when all you do is just think And you just want to be, I have plenty to believe Everyone seems to know what happens when you die, but you know what (I don’t know) And since every religion is correct, let me go ahead and tell you that (I don’t know) And since you have existence figured out and you understand everything (I don’t know) I guess God existing or not is so obvious, but forgive me (I don’t know) How do I stop from wanting to die, and possess knowledge? God, I want to be happy with less and less profit Delight myself in Christ in this life, and I ain’t leaving ‘til I’m satisfied There are no secrets in the afterlife And even if so be it I’m the last alive All my soul will ever lust for is to be with Jesus in paradise Give a fuck if you believe it or not I’ve spent my life looking for happiness, you find it unlikely there’s a God Evidence and facts aside Why would I invest in the world and not eternity, live life and learn that it passes by Just like that, so your beliefs hope evidence exists My beliefs observe and yearn for something better than this And life is what you make it, but temporary Sometimes my mind can ensnare me; maybe we don’t hate the thought of an afterlife; We just hate the waste of time that we’ve spent preparing So naturally we’re more acquainted with the cemetery Tell me that I won’t mock one of Satan’s angels; dare me There ‘gon be an angel buried in the sanctuary While you’re talking salvation preaching how you achieve it Pounding on the walls, and the echoing of a demon, screaming’s all your gonna hear, looking around like “What’s going on” Believers learning “all that I know is that I know I’m wrong” And every time I wrote a song, all I’m thinking is that there’s a heaven out there no imagination can impose upon So when I say believers are wrong, or anybody I’m saying there’s a mystery out there, unknown by anybody Unless you’ve tasted death or have ever been a cadaver Nobody knows, but some desire every answer I finna make it so complicated to comprehend I’ma make it so lyrics are considered as contraband How did so many find contraceptive for common sense? “Honest men” stand atop their obsolete accomplishments I’m speaking in a figurative language So it’s okay to say that I have my finger on trigger, I’m aiming I alleviate irritation with a little alliteration Or if you’re allergic to allegories of where a sinner’s faith is I’m speaking in a figurative language So it’s okay to say that I have my finger on trigger, I’m aiming I alleviate irritation with a little alliteration and if you’re allergic to knowing, take faith into consideration Everyone seems to know what happens when you die, but you know what (I don’t know) And since every religion is correct, let me go ahead and tell you that (I don’t know) And since you have existence figured out and you understand everything (I don’t know) I guess God existing or not is so obvious, but forgive me (I don’t know)

I don’t mean to be a bother but you will be molested When I take a pen and turn this page into a lethal weapon When your creativity comes to life and your beats are restless With enough energy to have the police arrested Rappers better get to the point, or at least to steppin You can’t face the music with that bleak expression I’m going all out until I physically can’t To leave a legacy, even if it kills me to rap Tell me how to act, you can go fuck yourself Put you in the middle of the pacific and cut your sail You don’t know what it’s like to be someone else, you have no idea So you can tell me to go hell I bet you I see ya I’m the type that will bring a knife to your home address Middle of the night while you’re tucked in tight in your sofa bed Sleeping, stand over and watch you while you’re in your coma rest And when you wake up, drive the knife into my own chest That’s what you get for being a person that assumes things Like who I am as a person, my addictions, and what my view sees And where my life has been and how I understand, cause truly I hope you despise all I am and musically disprove of me I want to be your perfect angel With a halo and turntables I want to be a perfect angel As I look for another verse to strangle if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again Hence the wide open front door to your house and why I am in As long as Westboro tells me that I’ll die in sin I feel I might as well break in and say bye-bye to them I’m sorry; I keep using fantasies for the wrong reasons It’s why religious people and I are not speaking Guess I hate seeing communion turned into superstition While they pretend we’re not all confused humans using euphemisms They say - the true character of a man is done privately What happens if what I’ve done is televised cause it ends violently? If you’re terminal I guess death is a dire need And why you might fly a plane into a building scraping the sky to leave Too much being preached to me that I can’t believe Can turn sanity casually into a casualty I usually would only fight to protect my family But I might deck a pacifist for calling me a pansy Why do you waste your life getting upset at me? Half of what I say are lines that I would never mean And since you’re preaching things I’d never let myself believe I guess we’re equal, and by the way, the quality of yours that I’m most envious of is your jealousy I want to be your perfect angel With a halo and turntables I want to be a perfect angel As I look for another verse to strangle I bet those pages in your notebook are disastrous Real lyrics resurrect you from the dead like you’re Lazarus There’s nothing to get hype about anymore it’s embarrassing You might as well be rapping in Arabic Cause I can’t understand you, mad cause no one talented has thought of you You sound like you are purposely not hitting notes on auto-tune Was there someone that didn’t love you enough Or have you realized you can make a lot of bucks when you’re dumb What the hell else can I do, I’m dead with this done horse I’ve already kicked it onto the steps of your front porch There’s nothing to do, I’m all out of class, and there’s much more On its way while I attempt to disrupt your Concentration on your level of comfortability so let’s start a war I don’t see the contradiction of your life when you’re on support You have the means necessary to benefit the lives of peo/ple That are dying but those possessions are all yours Water for the thirsty, food for the hungry Looking for good fruit that you produce but there’s nothing Know what happens to a dead tree, it gets cut down Dragged to and thrown into a lake of fire to drown And I don’t believe in literal hell, so what does that tell you I just make music for all of you to kill yourselves to My target audience, the overly-sensitive No need to thank me for taping your mouth shut, don’t even mention it I want to be your perfect angel With a halo and turntables I want to be a perfect angel As I look for another verse to strangle

Welcome to the rap show Please push all of the girls creeping up slowly to the front to the back row And if they won’t move, crowd surf em out of the building And then let innocent civilians deal with their feelings Women and children / can relate to your emotions And not even your priest wants to talk about anything That’s coming out of your mouth since it’s incessantly open Oh, the moral fabric you’ve independently woven It’s essentially hopeless, I intentionally wrote this With the intention eventually pay attention to notebooks So mic check, mic check, one two, one two Go ahead and step your game up, if you want to Can you be blamed if a demon gets ahold of you? What if they won’t leave even if I told em to? Man I don’t have a lot of answers as a go to But I can try, so welcome to the show, I can show you Pardon the lack of passion, yeah it’s rap – who’s asking? Pennies for thoughts and I’m purse-snatching, come a little closer and taste my harassment So, in other words - you want me to use other words Quit syllables, cater to ignorance, quit aiming to make your stomachs turn Answer is always “I don’t know it” – the medication is psychotropic Open-minded, bias broken, no Xanax cause I’ve awoken These dreams are severe; I can’t get rid of this ring in my ear I’m so glad you listen to Nicki Minaj and Meek Mill but I’ll never agree with you dear AKA please be aware – I’m irritated you’re breathing my air You’ll be the only hot-head I get matched with while I am pouring gasoline in your hair Me too, same feels, Dean, Marx, I-in Ian, whatever – you suck pen island Josh Horton – I heart you X 69, and do your worst Wyland Thanks for the beat but next I want a verse Ivan! Thoughts, words, actions, habits Character, destiny, target practice Got my cross hairs on the atlas For God so loved the world – but my heart is elastic Is God going to tell me that I chose hell? I pursued Jesus, but I brought in the Gnostic Gospels for show and tell I’ll just pick a different size for the glove that I wear What are your thoughts on heaven? “I don’t know – up in the air?” Sorry, you’ll have to pardon me – I love to stare Just picture us both as Mormons in our special underwear Now imagine us on our own planet Having spirit babies – “You’re pregnant AGAIN? GOD DAMN IT” I’ma go ahead and say everything you wouldn’t allow And if it kills me I’ll be in a box that’s wood, in the ground It’s not my fault you couldn’t figure it out – I’m a priest, so stick your tongue out, and let me put it in your mouth Don’t look under my robe – hey don’t touch that I left the Mormon Church – they took their magical underwear back And by the way – let’s get back to communion It’s clear your mind is in the gutter and it’s ruined Shhh – the rap game is sleeping

I keep trying but I guess that I can’t quit With bad habits associated with this rap shit I thought I’d be the nice guy, but it wouldn’t have lasted Want to send every rapper to lyrical hell in a basket With a bow tie, no lie, I don’t know why they are so dry Talentless teens in a cycle and it feels like they won’t die Which, is ironic when you have no life Loves shoes and cars but won’t go the extra mile, and has no drive The feeling comes over me, it’s looking like I’m gonna write I’m going to have to run tonight, when nightmares come alive Back against my bedroom door, knife trying to steal my lung’s supply If karma comes to get me guess I’ll see you in another life So lackluster is rap, I can’t believe I haven’t called it quits Talent won’t have to stay underground, once abolishment Told you I’m waiting on a rapper apocalypse Or at least lure Nicki into an abandoned apartment and then demolish it I’ve had rappers in my basement for days And I don’t know if I should let them go or stay there and rot away I don’t know if ever again they’ll have anything worthwhile to say No, so in my basement they’ll remain Mugs get hit, die when I spit I’ll be smoking jokers like I got a 30.06 And I want to get under your skin the best that I could do But what I really wanted was to provoke, inspire and push you Rap is supposed to be competitive, not repetitive, not repetitive You sound like you’ve been edited by a braindead faggot on sedatives I can’t tell if you’re not trying, you don’t care, or you’re just lazy You need to step your game up, who gives a fuck about your buzz lately no unnecessary adlibs or metaphors – I’m giving you straight facts like how a white homosexual might like his coffee, straight black if you don’t like it, do something about it, it really shouldn’t be hard to stop me cause right now, you’re a copy of a copy, of a carbon copy I think you think your brain is smart, but you should listen to your heart talking It might try to tell you somewhere you can discard your body I could destroy 98 percent of you with my weakest diss Collab with you, with my verse right next to yours to show how weak it is No topics, cause I’ll just go off of it And good luck with your rap career, I hope you make it to the top, so I can throw you off of it I’ve had rappers in my basement for days And I don’t know if I should let them go or stay there and rot away I don’t know if ever again they’ll have anything worthwhile to say No, so in my basement they’ll remain I’m already read for the next one Move on to a new project as soon as it’s done Too many lyrics have accumulated, I keep having this dream And there’s no time to sleep during a rude awakening Your record should be proud silence, I laugh When rappers say “I could do this in my sleep” yeah, you sound like it Sleeping on the mic, you should be killed in slumber If you’re rapping like “I need a pillow and a cover” I need a pillow, so I can cover your face Your songs to me are like breaths to you that you struggle to take Every second lasts forever, you just want it to stop But at least you can see light at the end of the tunnel while slipping off To radio rappers, I don’t like any of you Please come to my basement, I have plenty of room Oh, you thought that this is a joke Bring your favorite rappers over to my house, didn’t you know, that I’ve had rappers in my basement for days And I don’t know if I should let them go or stay there and rot away I don’t know if ever again they’ll have anything worthwhile to say No, so in my basement they’ll remain

Go to hell, figure of speech Best wishes, for to you to die miserably, figuratively I’ve been waiting for politicians to tell the truth And have only genuine intentions when they yell at you I’m john Wesley and I approve this message What behinds the scenes bull did they pull to get you elected When you mirror evil actions you begin to lose reflection And as for politics, the public gets a ruined perspective And understanding, do you even care about the general public What if you spent as much time as what you spend on your budget? On being real, and not glamorous public service announcements And fire anyone who is letting them occur and allows it We’ll celebrate purgatory while burning your palace Wipe that smirk off of your face while you’re earning your status Can somebody please be real when they step into office? And eventually see renovation on the steps of congress The devil’s eyes are beaming, and you can bet they’re on us We’ll trace every politician for one instead that’s honest That isn’t so incredibly fake that they bathe in an image That’s so unrealistic in nature that it’s way too suspicious Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt Bring them back, bring them back, bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth Perfect family man or woman that’s ideal The devil’s wearing prada, a suit, and some high heels America’s Top Model, how could you view it as not awful While watching them trying to walk, waddle Or getting down the catwalk however they can So they can be judged while wearing some ridiculous fashion trend But politics are kind of like that, aren’t they? Wouldn’t have to look like that if we believed what you are saying Or had a choice for a genuine governing order And you wonder why no one is becoming supportive We don’t trust you, I would love to adore you But please, stop right now, enough, that’s an order What if you could be real instead of faking? And didn’t act or look a certain way to appeal to general population What if politicians weren’t ran by big dollars And if they weren’t being honest, then they would get charges Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt Bring them back, bring them back, bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth I’ve got you now, hook, line, and sinker We both took an oath but I took mine with ether We’re both selling crack, but I cook mine with fear So while in office, I could die a cheater In the meantime, I’ll push my supply and steer Using smoke and lights, quit blowing kush in my mirror Nowadays, voting means taking a bullet With hands tied, pick a liar, we elect their enrollment It’s not a choice when you choose between 8 of the same person I’d rather be looked down upon, voting just ain’t worth it Some billionaires, an ex-first lady, next to this lame, smirking Fronting to a bunch of people that just want to see change and purpose So, lie to our faces and you should hang for it If you were fined for every time then you would pay a fortune Go find robin Williams and hang where Mork is “some people need to get their feelings hurt, bring them back down to earth” – no, stay in orbit Yeah, gladly let you remain in outer space Politics are a game and ya’ll are rich and con artist enough to know how to play It’s grown child’s play, and my mind is miles away Okay, so ever so gently, I will say – Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt, get their feelings hurt Bring them back, bring them back, bring them back down to earth Some people need to get their feelings hurt to bring them back down to earth Go to hell, figure of speech Best wishes, for to you to live miserably, figuratively I’ve been waiting for politicians to tell the truth I’ve been waiting for politicians to tell the truth

It’s like it’s my own funeral, all black, suited up Walk to the wake, look down, “what have you become?” Admit to myself that I never loved you enough “He’s already gone, why did you leave him in a pool of blood?” If you have answers, opinions are a dime a dozen Whether you’re a priest, politician, teacher, wife, or husband Transgendered, homophobic, know-it-all, liar, puppet Preheat to 500 degrees and climb inside an oven In other words, your opinion’s worth about as much . . . as your opinions when your mouth is shut Life is beautiful; it’s still filled with downs and ups No wonder beliefs are shouting “can’t believe you doubted us” Now isn’t this ironic, a rapper with opinions Saying that your views will never really make a difference They’re independently depending on your sick existence Which means, the wrong ones have you assuming the position I’m older, angrier, guess I have a gift And you could disagree, I’m pretty sure that I would insist This is a very lovely world to keep your mind when it’s sick What a great day to take a selfie while you drive off a cliff Which should be the only time you do that, make sure you update your status and your kids are on their iPads while you weave in heavy traffic Make sure your snap shat is Functional so when you crash and decapitate your family the last thing you can do is Instagram it This is what happens, I can’t explain it I’m forever persistent To everyone texting right now this letter is written Or staring off in your phone, and would never listen In 100 years it will be like you never existed I want to go somewhere I can be mad all the time Where nobody has to wonder what’s on my mind Floating on this Heroine Cloud of mine I can’t stand it or understand it why you would listen To the frantic rantings of a manic romantic’s monologue I’m just looking for a fire starter; every song’s my final offer Until forever’s the duration that I am signing off for I don’t feel right when I am not writing What is the relationship between our choices and God’s timing I’ll show you what happens when push comes to shove Backed up in a corner, sort of, when you got put in the trunk Cause you’re an internet bully and I wouldn’t allow Happy Chanukah here’s a hacksaw; put your foot in your mouth Don’t make put a lifeless body on a see saw And play in broad day, I’ll be caught, I know you’ve seen Saw What, you want a hatchet, so you can hack it clean off? How’s it feel, faggot, kill yourself, fucking retard You sit behind a screen daily masked in anonymity Critiquing everything with a century of indemnity Pull you through the screen, eventually Said it wasn’t meant to be sent to me, what’s the penalty of your sentencing? I just told you through a fantasy I was imagining This is what happens when my insecurities make a pass at me If you can’t relate you laugh at what somebody is battling But to me it’s like balancing on a beam covered in Vaseline I like the life I have and feel it’s highly sought after And I mean that humbly, with gratitude, I am not a rapper Just a person who writes an awful lot in his personal time Likes a couple rappers and tries to bring his journal to life I want to go somewhere I can be mad all the time Where nobody has to wonder what’s on my mind Floating on this Heroine Cloud of mine I can’t stand it or understand it why you would listen To the frantic rantings of a manic romantic’s monologue

I battle feelings you would not believe I’ll never tell you cause I don’t want to feel like I owe you an apology I see how you spend your day and time I guess I just wish you spent more of it finding a way to die No, no, I’m sorry, I don’t mean that I’m a firm believer guns and killing are weak raps It’s just; I’d really like what irritates me to be minimal And when you start talking I get tempted to be getting rid of you I delve deep inside of the unseen realm And wash up on familiar shores of sand and seashells It’s just the same story I retell Brought to you by some daddy issues and a young female Started back before I got my diploma It all began at 13, felt like I was a no one Still think I was in love, I’m what she disposed of And intimidated by dormant feelings that I know are in a coma I never felt good being me But I could hide it, so I was even deceiving me The first three months would happen so peacefully And then, nothing but pleading on my knees that she would leave Don’t put me on a leash; Don’t put me on a leash Don’t care if your name is Caroline or Annalise Or whether your car is paid for or on a lease Soon as you put a collar on me, I’m a beast And I promise you won’t like it, so don’t put me on a leash We all know how it feels When you begin to sense it all go downhill I didn’t have enough game to make it a competition It’s like I only could get with women living with something missing And I couldn’t provide the replacement I didn’t know my limitations Trying to offer something that I didn’t have And somehow convincing myself that it would last (Uh huh) I guess I’m a sucker for love (Nuh uh) But only for a couple of months (Uh huh) I’ve only succumbed to suffering once So far from reality I forgot what recovering was I only get the urge to push females When they get bright-eyed and bushy tailed I get to wondering if you all could see everything That I’ve ever done in your opinion would you think I should see jail You should have learned not to make your view of someone elevated Or soon the faith you have in mankind will be desecrated I just know someday you’ll be looking down on my name Cause the world doesn’t see your imperfections and the faults that you’ve made A lesson you may never learn, but it serves you right The purchase price didn’t include my personal life Expectations, you’ll experience regrets somehow I’d be doing you harm if I never let you down Don’t put me on a leash; Don’t put me on a leash Don’t care if your name is Caroline or Annalise Or whether your car is paid for or on a lease Soon as you put a collar on me, I’m a beast And I promise you won’t like it, so don’t put me on a leash

Cheating – don’t do me like that Stealing – don’t do me like that Lying – don’t you do me like that Wanting – please don’t do me like that Lusting – I said don’t do me like that Judging – no don’t you do me like that Complaining – why would you do me like that? Lusting – why would you do me like that? How is it you could be in need of a confession? I don’t want my image spreading the infection It would be different if you knew my intentions I need some direction, death to my reflection I trust God but I blame myself I don’t know how the two coexist, I love my creator but I’m ashamed of myself I feel like a Calvinist alone with his fate in question Faith and redemption, why must you stand so close to the face of deception I don’t know where it went, it’s like it disappeared Right and wrong are confused and how difficult it is to care My moral fiber went from missing a stitch To me questioning if it even exists It isn’t like I’m struggling to find a reason to live But if I die it’s like they’d suddenly understand me and forgive Look in the mirror and jump Yes I’m a lonely person, but I don’t want to be appearing as one Cheating – don’t do me like that Stealing – don’t do me like that Lying – don’t you do me like that Wanting – please don’t do me like that Lusting – I said don’t do me like that Judging – no don’t you do me like that Complaining – why would you do me like that? Lusting – why would you do me like that? How is it you could be in need of a confession? I don’t want my image spreading the infection It would be different if you knew my intentions I need some direction, death to my reflection I trust God but I blame myself I don’t know how the two coexist, I love my creator but I’m ashamed of myself I feel like a Calvinist alone with his fate in question Faith and redemption, why must you stand so close to the face of deception So take that and some depression you can stir in the mix Plus I’m trying to meet you in the middle while I’m burning a bridge This isn’t a fabrication; it’s a cry for help It’s feeling you’re trying to beat impossible by yourself It’s going from thinking suicide is stupid to “might as well” Cause no one will care or try to understand why you failed This is the everyday life of millions of people How could this God-given brain of mine be so deceitful? Cheating – don’t do me like that Stealing – don’t do me like that Lying – don’t you do me like that Wanting – please don’t do me like that Lusting – I said don’t do me like that Judging – no don’t you do me like that Complaining – why would you do me like that? Lusting – why would you do me like that? How is it you could be in need of a confession? I don’t want my image spreading the infection It would be different if you knew my intentions I need some direction, death to my reflection

You keep saying the same thing, never changing When I’m dying, my mind’s eye and what my brain sees Has nothing in common with anything I imagined Entering afterlife and witnessing my mind’s eye collapsing I’m constantly stalked by the shadow of death So I don’t have to be walking through a valley to battle my stress These anti-depressants had no effect Until I took the whole bottle and while dying, I say so depressed When the grip on the bottle is irreversible You will hear voices and this here is personal Every single one of those fans must’ve misheard you The devil writes, wish I’d have never looked in his journal It’s just a bunch of plagiarism; they say that it’s different But it’s the exact same recycled behavior mimic You can’t just burn hell to the ground and run away Misery will invite company and everyone will stay Stalked by the shadow of death Battle my stress, had no effect Sat so depressed, it’s irreversible My personal hell Not trying to get off Scott-free Can’t even make the claim that my behavior is not me Don’t know how hard I must beg and plead for them to leave These feelings are overwhelming and I cannot breathe It seems like the only way that I could even possibly End this would be for God to come down himself and stop me In my heart I don’t want this burden and so it haunts me When you’re not on the same page and your actions do all the talking At this point, while I’m writing I don’t know what the penalty is When your heart’s in a different place and your morals have been deleted Something you would never do happens once and is then repeated I don’t know how much of this humanly body you leave with I guarantee you disagree with me as a Christian I’m just begging almighty God for my consciousness to kick in It’s like he wants me to hate him purposely give no assistance We never measure our worth by what it is, just what it isn’t God, just either bring me to you or send me to hell Why the hell does this situation keep presenting itself? You’re omnipresent; I don’t understand how you can’t be nearest Why would I battle rappers when I have to battle lyrics? It seems to me this issue keeps getting uglier My problem says, “I’m not leaving unless you fuck me first I know I’m your energy as soon as you are low I’ll return, so in other words, I’ll see you tomorrow” Stalked by the shadow of death Battle my stress, had no effect Sat so depressed, it’s irreversible This here is personal So what am I supposed to do, don’t you tell me to grow up Cause that tells me, what I’m going through is not something you know of I’m hanging around people, strength I am trying to soak up Paranoia from there being no understanding and no love I really hope those close to me can love me through this If not, I don’t feel it necessary to be included That could modify into a shortened life If all is passing away, can any words truly be immortalized? You won’t provide me with an opinion that isn’t bias No one has a concept of privacy, you should try it Asking personal questions, you must have been excited Promise you I will either stay quiet, lie, or deny it I don’t know what your level of treatment is But if you get offended, give a fuck if you agree with it Not searching for a feminist, I’m looking for a stick to beat her with Feminism can eat a dick Have sensitivity? Then you should be deleting it Before you put in my cd, thinking that it would be legit I didn’t call you a faggot cause you’re gay, it isn’t a secret You can be who you are, you don’t have to be discreet with it I assume at my funeral, or with my will, reading it They won’t be surprised to find I have nothing to leave em with My death day is coming, when it is time to sign off If I spent time accumulating possessions, then I lost Stalked by the shadow of death Battle my stress, had no effect Sat so depressed, it’s irreversible This here is personal

And all I have to say is that I’m already here Whispering spirit’s words in the pallbearer’s ear And when you see the stairs you should all be aware You’ll fall when you’re pushed and fame is drowning in a sea of stares An ocean of eyes Listen to rap, ironically where poetry goes to die Teary retinas, a watery grave for better resting A flooded cemetery; well this is the resurrection I need to keep myself occupied, that’s why there’s a lot to write So many looking for faults in the stars written across the sky Make sure you play those cards just right Last thing anyone would want would be to get to heaven, be turned away and not know why Something about all the pain I have felt Not an excuse, it’s just why I’ve been explaining myself Everybody I have wronged, each person that currently hates me Hope they see they’re better without me; it was surgery in the making I’d rather just die now if I don’t inspire Watching ideas go into your daughter’s body and grow inside her Cause for rap right now, I have no desires Except to set a ghost on fire The emergency call came a second too late Broke in your mind, went through that hole in your head to escape Complete switched up the right and left side of your brain As you blackout I will tell you while I’m paralyzing your frame I’ma terrorize your fame, until the world barely recognizes your name I’m a fame terrorist, a fame terrorist This whole rap thing feels like an out of body experience And I don’t mean like a concert with illuminati and pyramids But I get done with a page, look back and can’t believe I wrote it I don’t remember writing what I read in my notebook And I can’t put a clear thought together Every verse is a combination of everything in my head mixed altogether I complain but I like where I am at, I don’t want all the pressure You thought I had a good head on my shoulders, but you were wrong, it’s severed Completely disconnected, you will need detectives When I step in your church and question your methods when you least expect it I can’t wait until all of you speak As to why you come to church and do nothing about it til the following week “You’re dismissed” doesn’t mean shut down until you return to church It means go out and help the world instead of being best friends with the furniture I know I’m rapping to myself But I reflect on 2004 when I made a promise to myself I’ma terrorize your fame, until the world barely recognizes your name I’m a fame terrorist, a fame terrorist A sea of nothingness, an ocean of eyes Won’t listen to rap because it’s ironically where poetry goes to die A flooded cemetery for better resting Teary retinas, fame terrorist, this is the resurrection Mikey and I mean business and as soon as we emerge Lyrics are alive and hopefully you will be reassured easy is evil, your laziness is deceitful look in the mirror john, don’t let that motherfucker beat you You’re going to want to quit, stop writing and cease studying War with your self has the tendency to be bloodiest I refuse to look back on my life and see nothingness Your lazy side is watching you give up and he is loving it It’s all been happening since the beginning of time Acting like everything is some 21st century crime All of us are fuck ups who will eventually die So who’s better than who? Nobody – man, that’s been my reply, so I’ma terrorize your fame, until the world barely recognizes your name I’m a fame terrorist, a fame terrorist

I’ve been losing my temper a lot You could try to stop my pen from talking but you’d have a better shot at dismembering God Second thought it wouldn’t be that hard All the parts are already separated and not working together at all Most of you should have stayed away from rap or passed it by You shouldn’t have a mic, if anything maybe practice writing You’re gay and fake like a plastic dike Sucking on a passafire every night fall asleep watching magic mike Hiding what you did is like throwing gas on fire Swallowed up the rest of my guilt and consumed the last of pride Making the most of your life just to pass the time Until you hear (doorbell) and your past arrives I’ve a reoccurring fantasy with Westboro Baptist A bubble bath, faggots, a happy family, a mattress Let me explain so you can see Shirley Phelps being charitable and giving out beds to the gay, homeless community Oh! You’re so patient I don’t know if Macklemore is shaking his head or giving a standing ovation Hopefully both at the same time Conflict of interest can be the reason you stay high Figuratively not litterararely How can we recycle lines that we’ve already written so carelessly? I am a heretic – heresy! I hide behind a veil of transparency Haha, yeah, I’m on my heroine cloud All your little gods, where are they now I’m sitting on the throne, and I’m tearing it down Go to hell, that’s what I said to the devil Whispered into his ear so I can tell that he’s unsettled What percentage is mental When he starts talking music with me, he gets tied to a rock and some heavy metal (Till he sinks) to the bottom of the ocean to cool off You believe life started without God, and I do not Sometimes I view circumstances from birth like it ain’t fair So he can sit at the bottom of a lake and stay there, in a restraint chair Walk up to his door, knock on it I don’t want to be somebody that God damns, doggonit So I wait until he answers – “step into my office” I sit “Satan, what problems do you have with my sonnets?” He says “first of all, you do my work quite well So consider yourself warned that I’ve already braced myself God has / already written my tale You’ll be watching your boat float to the top, while I’m watching mine sail But in the meantime, I want you to live a serene life Where you know of a suffering world, but you still sleep at night A spark you had, you have no intention to re-ignite And somehow deny not only God, but that he provides Jesus Christ; I’m really good at my job But don’t you see? With you it’s like I don’t even have to try hard I mean my God, how much denial are you living in? Can’t you see how fucked up your idea of what a Christian is? Haha, yeah, I’m on my heroine cloud All your little gods, where are they now I’m sitting on the throne, and I’m tearing it down Why do you keep trying John Wesley, you’re never gonna make it This is between me and you and I didn’t want to have to be the one to say it Wrong, it’s between me and God, so all of you I wish peace be upon But you might as well assume you’re playing God if you feel your creator just strings you along Then again I don’t know, I’ve never been a part of your life so no And I for sure, am never going to get an opportunity to understand, I suppose So at my show if you’re back five rows, yelling out loud this rap I wrote If we don’t change lives, we’re no longer a threat and this track that you’re hearing could be the last I pose For a cover of a publication, have so much to say but my lungs are aching Change 16’s to 100’s, now you’re talking my language and You can go to a booth and profess a love from Satan I profess love for the one responsible for constructing creation So let’s put our hands together, those closest to death dance forever A girl, confused by a glance that the pastor sent her, wants to go to heaven and be the last to enter Whatchu gonna do when it gets real, finally running out of prescrips to fill Out of pot out of money, out of time, the ability to be living in denial is a vicious skill Been there, done that, hear this, I ask Wear this, my mask – parents – why laugh Awkwardly, when I’m getting wordy, such a hypocrite, oh it just occurred to me I’m a parent, will I be racing to be erasing every album and lyric urgently If you rewind, every line how many times do you count that I lose my mind Just a single verse, started there, got here; don’t know exactly what I accrue inside I’d rather not be able to find a plane in my imagination than to lose a train of thought You are out of your mind if you think I am going to pray anything other than “Thank you God” Haha, yeah, I’m on my heroine cloud All your little gods, where are they now I’m sitting on the throne, and I’m tearing it down

I just want to talk to God, I don’t want to talk to you I don’t want to talk to you I want to talk to god, get it straight from him Never leave his side, never led astray again Stay a human while / I erase questions Does selfishness differentiate from sin? How balanced are choices and predestination Am I right in saying mega churches should be desecrated? / am I lying to myself through poetry How could I ever think I’m giving enough to those in need? / / it’s like I’m wired to self-maintain Am I tempted to sell mainstream? I’d get rid of all of me that’s physical If it wasn’t so unoriginal So typical, I’m so typical Take a look around and believe that I’m miserable Just want to talk to the creator and be with God So my self-awareness can quit and my speech can stop Time stands still, I can’t reach the clock I can’t kill myself, but I’ll agree to watch What am I doing, am I supposed to know? I can’t buy a “yes” or get close to a “no” Do I just chill and keep waiting Or do immediate bold measures need to be taken? If life is predestined, God doesn’t need me praying And mass suicide is the destiny that he gave us Taking our lives in the middle of this charade Hear the sermon, and all we hear is “hooray’ I want to talk to God, tell me how messed up we are cause I feel so far from understanding and afraid God, how can I best serve you? I need more than interpretations of you and a list of virtues Does everybody get an equal opportunity? To live eternally or is judgement dealt brutally I just want to talk to God, I don’t want to talk to you In that aspect, I ponder unity If I talk low of myself, does that dishonor you or me? How off am I, from how I imagine you Why doesn’t Satan leave forever when you ask him to? I don’t know if I make you happy or disgust you But I know these are questions I am asking because I love you Life for me has gone nowhere, nothing satisfies me Mistakes cost me life, the past can be pricey I don’t know if they’re always around or if you send angels I’m waiting to be lowered into my rectangle So regardless of anything else I am thankful I refuse to view life as the “same old, same old” I don’t want to act the way you do just cause you told me to My conversation with God is long awaited and overdue Don’t want to be swayed in beliefs because you do or don’t approve How could you be the reason I’m in the afterlife with no excuse God, my whole life was a struggle for you Every notebook I ever filled was full of genuine crisis that I wrote to you And all of these feelings come from everyone telling me not to Lean on my own understanding, teaching me their own understanding How could you have anything but your own understanding? My head in entertained by the ghosts of my family I don’t believe in unanswered prayers Just a huge box of expectations, there’s a good chance it’s there The problem isn’t that you / have an imagination It’s that you lack creativity and can’t sustain it I don’t know if God created the world with a plan to save it What to think of the Old Testament or I’m glad he waited I want to be eternally where my creator is Fix my head, “will someone tell me where a piece of paper is?” I won’t be stopped from writing a chapter Sometimes my eyes are the only way I can discern between crying and laughter I just want to talk to God, I don’t want to talk to you I see people and I get mad I want God all to myself with a pen and pad Leave me alone in a darkened room With a bit a light, a little life, and apart from you How is it my mind tells me that I’m supposed to love But my heart says these are people that I want to be disposing of One drop of hell on the tip of my tongue And the hatred that drips from my lips has begun I’ll show you weeping and gnashing of teeth Jesus’ mom and the devil smashing his dreams God is building the door and he’s casting the key To tell you a secret Satan wouldn’t be the last to believe God’s abilities aren’t what is rationed to me Every single second, 12 million chances to breathe John Wesley isn’t going to go through life wasting it My attic isn’t as haunted as my basement is The past is the past unless you thrust me back into it My future is God’s, plus it’s that genuine I believe in a higher being, I know I’ve been writing mean But I know it was needed and I stand behind it finally I’m ready for God, I just want to talk And I don’t mean from a book or by myself in the dark I mean face to face, for a while, exchanging our minds from the source, straight from his mouth, what he’s saying is right what to do, how to live, where to be, who to give to to know if the chaos in the world really is you or is it your absence, does everybody get a chance I can’t help, but cry out at the mercy of my thoughts on circumstance God, you are God, and not man God is never “if God can” it’s “God can” I don’t want you to act how I do I want you to do all the good you can, seek God’s purpose and put the past behind you

Stay away from cliché I may want to explore other options If I pop lock and drop it will huey probly come back from dead in a coffin Once upon a time I was in high school, rap was my dream, writing was my idle Now I pilot every thought I put into a rhythm and I whisper in your ear and I bite you That’s what you said to me “bite me” you’ll never be with anybody who is just like me You didn’t mention religious indifferences would distance the dim dimensions of my lighting You differentiate destiny, you can’t take death from me, especially if it was meant for me I met a little intelligent form of me and sent him back to the fabricated section of my memory If I said that I meant it I probly didn’t I likely just never wanted to talk about it again I can’t just get over it, what would I write about without emotion dictating a mouth and a pen To get sick of these syllables is more than a little improbable and honestly never going to be happening No matter how close I get to unraveling rattling off or babbling invalid analogies Battling personal issues that I’ve created only makes it a more versatile weapon I’m detonating You think I’d realize something ironic maybe, like reread what I just wrote down and the sentence hates me Not in all actuality but whatever I’m saying is completely pertaining to a point that I’m making Mad at inaccurate bigots not understanding verses, versus those interpreting the noise as a persuasion Heroine cloud, fourth album, and it’s ridiculous; I can’t believe it got to this When I talk to God, how am I going to explain how impoverished money was pocketed? The world is starving horribly, dying, forever targeted And those of us who are called more fortunate all account for a lot if The bank accounts are all robberies, dead presidents are the hostages We’d probly pop a couple shots in the directions of hip hop shops or the colleges If it meant we’d pocket a number, a product of our popular environment Reveal it for the facade that it is the righteous can be riotous A ritual is what we are living for, giving life away for a residual Told yourself you deserve what you earn, so full of yourself, what did you pull What bullshit did you buy today, what expenses have you close to death? Caring a/bout your/ issues/ would cause /stress, and/ I haven’t/ broke a /sweat Likely, reality will break your legs or take your oxygen away with a razor blade If the only way that you behave is to march through life full of pride like a gay parade Ha, I’ve got to do more with rap than I ever thought I would ever get the chance to do I can’t tell anything but a lie and irony is that that’s the truth This is the way I am, this is the way I’ve been, And I refuse to change for bad or ever fabricate to fans, from this day on, things won’t be the same, I aim to please and I’m pleased to aim, bang Don’t be alarmed, we are coming for you We’ve returned, we’re coming to get you You can say you don’t want it but we know every one of you do The others are dead and we are coming for you

The longer I’m not signed, verses keep building Stockpiling words till they burst out the ceiling Dreams and thoughts of labels signing me overload It’s been several years I feel I can finally hold my own My mind tells me the emotion I’m supposed to show My heart will disagree; it’s fighting to control me – NO STOP! GIVE ME BACK TO MY self . . . I think I must have been rapping and fell asleep . . . Is this the life – cartons of cigarettes? Vodka shots to crash and martyr the spiritless? When I’m asleep – I only appear to rest My cousin from Missouri says - "that boy is queer as heck" That isn’t all; I promise there is more coming My imagination – sure to have you sick to your stomach I know it’s currently a sore subject – So put me in the booth, hold your breath, and press the record button As I sign my name on the top right corner I kill the page at night and then every morning I mourn her I torture lines, record them, and write more of them I pour my life into igniting ideas your mind aborted You can’t quit; the flow has got you hooked The knife is on your neck and by your throat and needs a push We both know you should stop; I just don’t believe you could If you’re a kid and stealing glances you will grow to be a crook You couldn’t smother me if you took all the love from me Sucked it in your lungs and pulled the rug up out from under me I love thinking of suffering I’m buried and bloody and waiting for somebody to come uncover me Yeah, life is terrible – it won’t get better We’re all walking around wearing a red letter Selfishness will give your view of life a stress fracture And is more common than a self proclaimed “best rapper” Try going to sleep after taking two hits Of this music, instrumental or acoustic Love is an ideal bullet; it wants a piece of you Put it to the brain of everyone you love and see it through you think you're so dope and everyone else is weak but all you're really doing is proving that you asleep you say you're hot and they banging this in the streets but all you're really doing is proving that you asleep you say you're cold and constantly bang the heat but all you're really doing is proving that you asleep you say you deserve a spot in the industry but all you're ever really doing is proving that you asleep