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Q,U A lot to say, I don't speak Got to get, got to be Lots to see lots to pray Lost my seat, lost my way Not a freak, though it may Seem like it somedays Mean writing, propane Don't need help in no way, yo My soul sold for its own sake Quote quote, for its own sake Broke broke, like a throw away Like a tug boat that couldn't pull its weight But I'm so dope, got my own strain You can smoke my hope and feel no pain Like I deal cocaine, or coco I'm cold as your nose full of snow when it froze, woah Everything that go down come back up Keep that in my mind when I act up Strut backwards from a scrap when I man up Thats a true sack up for a sick pup Listen to the friction, it interrupts like a Hiccup Miss the days, PBJ's cut it diagonals like bishops Sick of the sentiment, since a kid I been an instrument of change Reminiscent on the past, looking passed all of that pain Afterwards in the afternoon your bout as good gone to, The afterlife with sack of dice, only chance is blind luck Like mice, times flies when you fry rice A watched pot never boils but a watch clock still ticks, yo Like a bomb bout to blow like dynamite You're 'bout as bomb as your bright, and you lit like a light with a boner for a bulb and a Stoner for a mind Closing the curtains like I'm cleaning my closet And I don't like what I find So I wrote rhymes for a couple lives Now I won't die, until I struggle to stride And my ego gon pop like a bubble of pride Reaching for the top, dog I'm trouble with eyes Seeking out what I watch, like I'm in love with prize Reaping what I've sought, I've got a lot on my mind A lot on my mind... What a run of the rut, got something to shove Kept it tucked like a gun, I'm the son of the sun Lot to say, I don't speak Got to get, got to be Lots to see lots to pray Lost my seat, lost my way Not a freak, though it may Seem like it somedays Mean writing, propane Don't need help n no way