Check it...
As far back as I remember... I was always dope...
Everybody out there, loved everything that I wrote,
and Nope, I aint signed... but yall know I'm hot...
People say "Yea, look hes wack", My skills show I'm not,
Sometimes though, I'm like... I think that I'm not Ill...
And then the world just stops, stomach sick, is how I feel,
Then my mind juss fills... Then see my imagination runs wild...
Hense I find muh will, Other Emcees creations? Just Mild,
So Now I find it near... The time I hold so dear...
Though How I wind my fear, just rhyme into my wholesome ears,
Now all I see is green... Has nothing to do with hate...
As I sit, wish and wait, The game just sets my fate,
I'm beatin' myself up... Got my knife in hand...
Why needin' this help sucks, as bullets strike this man,
Attempts at suicide... Leavin without a legacy...
My minds blank... writers block, It's the plague of We,
Emcees we all catch it... It's just our common cold...
Watch us break and fold, This can't be controlled,
So we sit back and watch... A dagger pierces through...
Flesh just splits in two, Brain gets ripped and chewed,
As I stab through my thoughs... Dopeness still gone...
The game is what I rip, My creative Images are drawn,
Bluntly beatin' down... Bruised by all this wealth...
My past has been rewound... This call...
.Is Just A Cry For Help.