You’re claiming your name? Drop it
Your sense of ambition? You’ve lost it
Sounding as tired as your topics
Shopping no proxy for clock in
Where is that kid that said “fuck it”?
Paint on the page and bopping
Know what the people are wanting?
People to get fucking started

Burning appendages
What the fuck meant by this?
Counting the words that I’ve written
That shit is towering, I feel empowered
Faces soured of poets that envy my hours
Been slitting throats every flick of the wrist
Fly over your head, but you get jist
This mirror my favorite rappers on my list
Yet still surprised that I am writing like this
Not feeling enough
Not touching my lust
For greatness, face this
calling my bluff
But spilling my guts
Might keep me in touch
But fuck, let me just show now what I’ve got
Pulse on the rhythm, production I’m killing
And tapping this feeling
And writing it down
I know this shits coming round

Sideways glances
Not taking no chances with this
Blood on the page till dying day
Placing no bets on a gift, I persist
I’ve been rigging the numbers, no risk
I’ve been showing up
I’ve been showing up
Watching you sleeping through missing your shots’

But fuck it, catch me when convenient
I’ll still be feeling, believing this
I’m peeking my life and I’m seeing the meaning
when writing it down
I’m writing it down
I know this shits coming round