Off the chest, must I confess, I feel like the greatest artist coming out the 2020's I am next

Back with a vengeance, Bruce Wayne's apprentices lessons iv'e learned resperse through this pen bitch

I got an itch all for this shit just like a crack head, cracked eggs all under my socks in this new age

My soul hurts every time that I move forward people come and people go man what's the point in these connections (uh uh)

Please no more lessons I want love and affection, got so much pent up rage inside these bones man If I get pressed don't let this pretty face distract you I'da grab that pride and stick it up that ass like it's foreplay, or maybe you're gay, don't matter to me one way or the other something going up that cheesecake

And my favorite number is 3- sided like a triangle, they try and angle me to box me in, last time I checked there ain't no damn triangle boxing ring, not fitting categories divide your time away from me, fine we square up man i'll feed you a fist plate, next time you eat you gon be thinking "How's this taste?" fool you got knocked out fam forgot how to math

Explain it? sure, to squares in a ring is 4 for 4

And all these **** ain't got nothing but an attitude and I get it life is radical that'll do it dude but you gotta pump out your chest and wish for the best, every breathe that you take counts as a blessing, so bless you, I know you love to talk a out the Ox, so tell your buddies in the car if they can pass the aux, tryna get green all these boogers just talk talk, I knows, don't care bout your what is's and Is not's

Rapper singer song writer and producer I gotta hand it to me, have all this talent no one handed it to me unfortunately ignoring every noise that comes forth but fortunately doing all four simultaneously

Life has been dark man gotta light up the night sky, seize this opportunity, heat coming from under the sea, you can feel my radiancy coming from me, P.S., your favorite, RSS and P.

Off the chest, must I confess I ain't as perfect as I once thought as I bang my head on the wall, yea the one in my room I find myself staring at it, hoping and hoping shit would change but I haven't washed shit

Back on the mic spitting harder then a Llama oughta let you **** know right now, I'd be a goner got me looking like Yamcha if I wasn't an artist, all this hope had left when she departed, living in what seems to be fiction Malcolm had gotten me, through them tough times now i'm spitting rhymes casually and actually I was getting tipsy of the soda pop, tryna find a way to cop cuz like I said the hope was lost, and what's the cost of being honest? well, sometimes a consequence is an inevitable respondent so, play your cards right, like Mr. Tatum did I gotta make a name for myself, it's Hell on Earth here, April 10th 2005, is my birth year I'mma mark this the beginning of a new year, never looking back, or too far infront of me the present is a gift, and In just want to be.