I know I'm an emotionally disturbed
person
People think I'm talkin' to myself
when I'm
Rehearsin' on the rhyme. A mass
productionist
a mass production matador pan it
more to
the left there you go. Minimize the
Synthe sizer wiser when I wind up for
The pitch but I don't pitch a bitch
'cause
Sales get derailed and towed an
abundance
Of cash. Damn I let it go. He was my man.
I tried to trust him, but I busted him
twice
In my trash can and I'm askin'. I don't
need
Psychology to see, the dichotomy in
me.
Knew something was fishy, but I'm
better than
Wishy washy or topsy turvy. It kinda
irked
Me that I caught him sleepin'
'cause I try
To be wide awake, but ye slows it
down
So I can't dilate and show that I'm
bigger
Than that. But I also have to consider
The fact that opposed to him not
being
The right peeper, I'm a light sleeper
So what does it mean when I reach
maturity
And still see that I'm not the mayor of
my
Mayonnaise, the master of my milieu.
At least I have a swing and a few
things
On my mind, it's never a good nighty
night
Just a rise 'n' shine. Why's the rhyme
So important. Why do I have to be so
Potent and blow the mic a flow
without
Chokin' - I don't. I'm arrogant and
outspoken
Mouth no token I'm just a roust about.
I have a house and clout but I don't
come tight
But it's routine since few fiend for true
Hi
