Often, I look in the mirror, like: ‘he’s off.’ Rather than try to cure, I let the pain ease off.
With the pen, as I write, hold on tight to life, when the wind always tryna take me; I tell it breeze off.
My knee caps swollen; jelly legs… this shit ain’t funny – I’m just tumbling down this hill; you rollin’ until I fall off.
Greasy from hard working my ass off.
I be, on nothing but Tea, but here’s something that’s missing in the drink; since it’s all watery – the hennesea’s off and it’s too greezy; I’m grazed up these and are sober thoughts… Please calm me, before I go off.
You see, it’s three Zs, now you sleeping and I’m bussin’ for the potential girls who more than likely only wants the Pz; have no answers for my Qz; they just thinks it’s “easy peasy,”
but nah tek gunshot for me
she wants a microwave job – whereas, I want rice and peas; and now my eyes peeled wide open when really need to sleep in peace – you failed at the former stanza, so now I’m pee’d off.


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