Woods' Wolves

People Want to Know what I do Write about Each day I suppose I just Describe The creatures In one's Attic space I don't got a favorite style I do what the beat beckons Always been wary of smiles Specially from Sirens I've been called bibliophile (Seeing what page reckons) At the feast of wisdom Man, I go back for my seconds All of the venom is not an anomaly Know it's indicative of a disease I have been looking around for the comedy Midst all the filth and the pestilent fleas Oh my, had to scrape some people up from my floor So I could deliver them back to their own door Funny how good liquor can eliminate the senses Couple downed shots and they're messing up decor And I got a message for the housing authorities Your enforcement is so filled with big holes and deformities I, keep the club bouncing like Tigger Fie, many don't keep the same vigor Sigh, little things can really get bigger If you got a problem try to pull the fucking trigger Listen, I don't want to have an attitude So I'll try to say this without even being rude I don't want to be that person rejoicing in ostracization But won't you see the fucking enemies accrued Please I do not want your advice I'm more obliged to throw my bloody dice Than listen to someone who's not in the trenches Please name me a coach who instructs from the benches Said this before, happily, I'll say it again If you don't understand the truth coming out of my pen Then I do suggest you put on your reading glasses Wouldn't understand me if I fucking spoke molasses Listen to me That's not a strike to the ones who don't get it at first It's a strike to the ones who drink the most and have the least of thirst It's a reproach of the hungry roach that tries to spoil kitchen goods It's a castigation of the wolves that roam within the woods When I was younger, didn't have that many friends And I pushed all through my hunger so I could, my field, till Then I got older, and you know how the path bends Well the only hunger I now have is for the fucking quill I don't got a favorite style I do what the beat beckons Always been wary of smiles Specially from Sirens I've been called bibliophile (Seeing what page reckons) At the feast of wisdom Man, I go back for my seconds Gloom, when I came out the womb But I made the best of my gilded tomb Doom, at the bottom of life's flume Fee-fi-fo-fum, giants need room Don't need a gold chain Just want a bigger, bigger crowd For the arcane runes that I been sprayin' And yes I do want brain But I'm talking 'bout the one in head Not the one for which you're prayin' I, keep the club bouncing like Tigger Fie, many don't keep the same vigor Sigh, little things can really get bigger If you got a problem try to pull the fucking trigger