Sporadic Thoughts Will Pop Into My Head

It's Not A Contest, And I Ain't On No Conquest For No Mate.

I Get Imaginative With A Mouth Full Of Adjectives, A Brain Full Of Adverbs, And A Box Full Of Laxatives, Shittin' On Rappers, Causin' Hospital Accidents.

His Palms Are Sweaty, Knees Weak, Arms Are Heavy There's Vomit On His Sweater Already, Mom's Spaghetti He's Nervous, But On The Surface He Looks Calm And Ready To Drop Bombs, But He Keeps On Forgettin' What He Wrote Down, The Whole Crowd Goes So Loud He Opens His Mouth, But The Words Won't Come Out He's Chokin', How, Everybody's Jokin' Now The Clocks Run Out, Times Up, Over, Blaow!

I Always Wished For This, But It's Almost Turning Into More Of A Nightmare Than A Dream.

If People Take Anything From My Music, It Should Be Motivation To Know That Anything Is Possible As Long As You Keep Working At It And Don't Back Down.