Vesey. The man inside the mirror precedes you, as if he had a say on who or what you want to be today.
I come before the people with a proposition. I'm only taking one victim, see if they can breath steady.
The prophetic wordings of an analytic depressive teenager are as true as the former explicates this, ready?
Vesey only knows one other option, self-affliction of the mass murder, as if someone didn't say that yesterday.
The majors haven't heard this because Sweetness is his benefactor, but I'm also sad I haven't heard Admiral.
Names are only valuable when you have the stamina to back more than an Acura; I'm straight bragging.
These adult figures are nothing but six figures, I grow up in the middle-class with some people who hate sagging.
Not to say I do it, its the judgment that I'm purging, and every time I don't they claim it's admirable.
What's the big deal if I could swing front or back on the swing-set, the button's hanging steady & I'm one to reset.
Noon of the dawning, six o'clock and I'm yawning, who's the next victim of circumstance? I'm thinking me.
Viscosity is conceptual, but not in the brink of this intellectual. Sexual, my deviations, nothing here to see.
With a sip of Hennessey and brew, I'm sure you'll be back for more before your bloodshot eyes make a sunset.
Denmark, darling, that's a profitable concept. Referral to myself in third before the lovers made it to first.
Some people live in blissful ignorance and ask me for a pass back, I frown and give them waivers, why so?
Is it natural forgiveness or my forgiving futurity? For every penny I got from wondering, I'd start a charity, no.
A penny for my thoughts, people gave me quarters. You can bet they raised me fifty when I question their worst.
Critics realize I'm awful when I'm down in my worst, but look at these precocious vocals, these are me at my best
I'm hating people when they give me awkward looks at my chest, saying Derulo's hot before they lay him to rest.
It's not as obvious, but I've been stimulating my breast, just to make the feminine attire give them a trial to test.
Better believe my parents doubt me when I dress to impress, so when I say I hate their mind, I zip it in a vest.
Vesey kills Vesey, the Man on the Moon. The Urban Spaceman of the Rap Game, this steaming hot mess.
I'm about to roll a seven and monopolize these bets, Park Place is my place for the fiftieth hour.
Man of the tower, I'm the manure. People complaining about these others and their angel shower.
You already got married once, who are you to criticize your daughter? It's slaughter, the way I kill stress.
I write a couple of bars and then I fear I'll regress, but these are just some mild tribulations.
I already told the one that I'm trans and they knew it, fear in their heart as my sexuality's brewing.
But it's alright, I guess, I'll play it off cool and then I'll stab myself for a while while the cat's mewing.
Do I need a permission slip for this next field trip? Happiness seems so far away outside of simulations.