Obscure as the last time I wrote a rhyme to rip the Cataraps. It's another average case scenario of Vesey tip-toeing around binge traps. Seemingly simpler at this point in my Renaissance. Methodology becomes easier to grasp without much assistance. Declaring all these phrases mine as an aside from what they're really meaning. Leaning on the pillars of the grandstand of my living flaws; so demeaning. But tell me, friend, what are you truly meaning? Truly conveying? Last time I gave that girl my heart, she gave me interest and a loan surveying. It was one month. I call it a heartbeat, but others thought the amount would pile up. The dial-up is barely working, I still laugh runny noses while phones twerk on the up and up. Rhymin' up with up? Please try the shutting up. I already had to slow the lyricism down before the sums were up. Exeter and Demeter hit the mark of the hundredth listener. Making me feel euphoric without the need of an amateur teeth glistener. Do I dare to shout out the Sean Klitzner or even the Kurt Kittner? I suppose I could pull those references, but I wouldn't mean it, er. Barely can entangle my way into this trap scene. I predicted this predicament way before I even knew of lean. Never even seen it, never have the desire. Proposal of the benefactor in this factorial of the missions dire. Dire Dire Docks has a new king for hire. Throw his career off the mark and place the weight on Rick Mirer. With a little Jeezy Russell and a mix of Ant Bennett in the choir. Potential is getting higher for Vesey, sentential is where she leaves the court messy. Friends are looking sloppy, blood drooling down the wrong way; referendum of Vesey. Lesser than the rest of the kings that we were serving. People give away their mind's power just so it's the Lexus they can be swerving. Never learning their lesson, I try way too hard to convey what I mean. Worrying about the safety and the future of my friends with my ire seen. Turning it around for the sake of dancing the roundabouts with I.M. Meen. It all looks a little bit like a twist of Parisian flair, oh, now she sounds keen. Chuk still reminisces about Hejuana Swag and the Sam hating days. But all I'm wondering know is why I'm still paying to fear these new rays. It's another hip-hop mic check, before the times were starting over. People barely scared of Wilmington when they rode in from Dover. It's the reality you bite, the fight you turn to might. Never be surprised when the armor he shines is white. It's a terrifying realization, I'm still going off for my inspiration. Friends are the only fans I ever needed for this perspiration. Love and the rest, the Doge Fab Fours. I'll snap the next time they call my grand fam a bunch of whores.

Disposition on the fluttering keys of a locked door. What I'm doing this for is the pursuit of wanting it more. The life I gave away for the sake of my social notoriety. I gave away my great grades and my parents under sobriety. On the contrary, I wonder what I was really thinking. Drinking away the waters and the nutrients until I was sinking. The existence I started living was paltry and aimless. The names by which I went would so soon be claimless. Barraged myself from having to live up to any praise. It wasn't me, it was the rough time I lived those days. In this supposition and I reaffirm my premonition was true. The grass was still green and the sky was still blue. But who's to say those colors wouldn't invert? Found some friends and I found some interest in an introvert. Hit my growth spurt, I was living up to my masculinity. Wouldn't be too long until I learned I was a switch hitter with a lack of dignity. I had done these cats wrong, I did them all wrong for the sake of no reasoning. Always thinking I could just say that I'd do it and that'd be some fair seasoning. I remember the days I lived my life to the fullest. I was a child then and the memories at the time were the dullest. I want to be older! I want to be taller! I'm not regretting these aspirations, though I wish were a tad smaller. Some could say I'm stuck here in a tight spot as of these days. Stuck between a flux of wanting dominance or submissive says. The sun's rays – would they shine on a chest barren or a bikini? Back then I'd just watch Paganini, but now my thoughts are obtuse as zucchini. You never spend your time thinking of the zeds or the Mollys of the world. My name is just anonymous in a lockscreen of party scenes, my mind just hurled.