Quote (P1nk777 @ Thu, Jul 23 2009, 02:14pm)
Indeed good sir.
My rhyme scheme is incredible, you could test it on a medical level, and round to every decimal,
and find that every syllables relevant yet undetected when inspected by spectacled intellectuals
Professionals, that know that my style's meant to build
In other words don't be fuckin around with my pencil skills
I'm mental ill, more like every fuckin sentence ill, potential, that when filled, will leave every instrumental killed
The lesson here, is simple yet overlooked
Underestimated when i leave the track overcooked
I know I should, be blowing up like Underwood
But i'd rather underachieve until I'm understood
The thunder should start to silence, the storm is past
Open the door it is warm at last
The only thing that remains are the stains on the floor
in black, besides that just a morbid rap
I've grown to figure out that life ain't fair
That's why your kids and your wife ain't there
And you could ask the gods above if they got some light to spare
But I've found that they don't like to share