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