Yo, it's the man who, can't rap
I been smoking anthrax you better stand back
I used to do the ass raps and the bad tracks
And now I'm taking catnaps doin' backflaps
Flips - past, pricks - trash kids
Cast a cantrip smackin tricks til their ass drips
Bad bitch stackin mad chips with the practice
How you fuckers gonna make it to the morning?

I put this on my Soundcloud half a year ago
Pony thumbnail, didn’t think it come to much but here we go,
On my quest for good writing fightin for immortal truth
Running out of people I should act as if I'm normal to
Sorta cool, more than you, amateurs abhor the views
I kick em off my back turned just like the fuckin horses do
But most time it’s more I’ve got no time for wasting
It’s flow nice or go drive or nosedives to pavement
And hey, man, I started five novels filling THIS VOID, if you
Read a single one you'd think I was a SCHIZOID
And I might be THIS, BOY, but if I got readers
Then I gotta breathe and make it to the morning.

[Chorus]

Don't fuck with a semblance of jest, cross
My life story up with somethin resemblin success
If I had a Patreon where people gave me five bucks
I'd be so happy that I'd straight collapse in joy and die young
But my lunch break's up, jot dreams with a G2
And hope that I'll reread them at home so I can regroup
I seem to, some days, but mostly I don't much believe
That any nice horizon could be shining and not misperceived
Mister please, I don’t mean to bitch about my life
But it’s not easy seeking all your enrichment in the night
I just want to make it to the morning.

[Chorus]