The Article

257/365

The mind of a madman
Trying to make sense
And stand
Use his own hands
Craft, build the blueprints
Brand, leave his imprint
Band together two cents
Speak whether it fits
Dent critic inputs

Spitting fishing hooks
Hitting the shook unwilling crooks
Silly Billy words are taken literally
Hurts the butts of many herds
Heard the words played in reverse

No stutter
The words slick like butter
Utter the terms I stand under
The curbs are straight, brother
No turns, no lights
The window shutters shut tight
Exit sign isn’t lit, not bright
Stand the fuck up
Lets fight

Creepy concepts displayed near the top tier
This “Blog” shit gets too real
Rappers and writers stealing my ideas
And I don’t give a fuck
They originated right here
Bite my words for your tracks, It’s fine
Whatever you’d come up with would be too whack, I don’t mind
You’re desperate for a buck, I don’t judge
Feel free, I’ll be fine
I’ll sit back and relax knowing I can repeat this actions since the skill is mine

You’ll have to wait until I write my next line
And maybe I’ll take my time
But maybe I’ll move faster
If it bleeds from me despite my want to stop
I’ve tried countess times, I can’t
I can’t sit and wait to bite someone else's line
I’ll bite mine

See you tomorrow
Same place, same time