Sunday, January 06, 2008
effectively restacking rhyming schematics
my semantics erratic; my lyrics belong in straight jackets
pedantic, am i, sometimes
i can admit it
but you too must admit it, kid, the shit i script is gifted
this Tig is lifted
like a jack's beneath my rear end
but above all that i'm miffed at
the fact that i ain't dead yet
and yet the better part of me says "come on son and talk ta me.
you bottle me and coddle me but never look inside a me
what is it that so scares ya, b?
afraid that you might like me?"