I've been on a roll with the new beats.
None of which are on the level of "Everyone", but still.
I can reach in the pocket and pull out hip-hop.
I'm not in the mood for critics.
So, I'm gonna massage the eardrum.
Like mama always said to do.
My mother (I think) was trying to tell me she was a StarChaser.
I didn't want to classify her as one.
If she truly listened, she would ...
She used to listen.
Great way to start the morning.
Other than Drake taking the Egyptian throne.
But at this point, if I have to jeapordize my safety to sit in front of everyone and be told how horrible I am, I don't want it.
I don't want beef.
I don't want to fight.
I just wanna smoke.
And lay with a pretty StarChaser.
Or a Harlem joint.
Or a Brooklyn girl.
I had a Queens girl.
And they were all alike.
Talk too damn much.
So, I put up with it/them.
And it's not like they weren't saying some shit.
I just didn't want to be overloaded.
As my cool ass uncle would say, "Stimulation overload!!!"
This coffee is getting me through this lame ass morning.
Now I need some Henny.
The Devil's Apple juice.
The Socratic Doomer.
Whenever you submit.
~follow the buzzards~