The Fool (rough draft)

Cross the motherfuckin' line like a razor blade Pass before I get the grade The way I'm gettin' faded you would think that I been gettin' paid The way I'm gettin' jaded you would think that I been gettin' laid Stuck with dirty dishes Hurtful bitches drop-pin' ugly names Quit the shit to get a fuckin' job where they do just the same Earn a name with game complainin' bout what happened yesterday Revertin' back to older ways Glazed by what I marinate Rappin' on these beats about defeats like I got shit to say Tablets full of dreams in micro doses leave my conscious vague Palates too accustomed to the plainest tastes are why I stay Vanilla as a mocha Chocolate creme brûlée Lazy, dazed, and crazy Stay be bathing in patchouli Hasty with the order Load the raps like I'm Chipotle Help ya health Invite myself inside ya pocket like a copay Never met a rawer hotter mix Wasabi with the poke Distraught and lost in thoughts of every memory I locate Swear my head ain't even spinnin' Just be feelin' when we rotate May my Will be done without remaining royalties or probates Maybe then I won't be wastin' every wakin' moment hopin' To be fine Always tryin' to fly Always tryin' to trust Always try not to die In a world set up for us to hit the dust Set up for us to bite the dust Always tryna stay high Always tryna find love Always tryna get by In a life where there don't seem to be enough Where there don't seem to be enough Well, we meant well, as well All is well that ends well I guess we'll see what's meant to be 'cause we know only time will tell Holy hell, wholly held Blow as hard Holyfield I don't got no blade to yield My tongue don't make for quite the shield Conceal yourself with lowly stealth Go be a phony somewhere else Coping with a cover 'cause we new to tryna heal ourselves Hope is just another pitch to leave you in a gutter Now we out here sparking magick Marking plastic notes they utter Motherfuckers, sittin' twisted as a wrist that's gettin' bent Stuntin' women they ain't fuckin' Stackin' money they can't spend New traditions or addictions Poor conditions fair to trend Did Quentin T direct this shit Cuz it don't seem to reach an end These tasteless waste of space placed in our face have got some wounds to mend With many reparations overdue and IOUs to send The man has played you for a fool if he's convinced you he's your friend We all just dollar signs to them Receptive vessels for their phlegm You got to decide if pride will bribe you to pretend Without a lesson found You bound and wound up in this shit again Too condemned to comprehend that you can't only fucking spend ya time Just tryna be fine Always tryin' to fly Always tryin' to trust Always try not to die In a world set up for us to hit the dust Set up for us to bite the dust Always tryna stay high Always tryna find love Always tryna get by In a life where there don't seem to be enough Where there don't seem to be enough