You all think you're the greats now, I'm waiting for my payment.
I'll never live in paradise, and I said what I meant.
This is for the people who are living to see my dying.
You'll never get a shred of dignity 'cept when I'm crying.

D.S. the Best, the Comissar of Bars.
Comissions are barred from the tars of the stars.
I hit every pore of the feeling until it's just the latter.
A madder batter makes a madder hatter while my checks get fatter.
Between a game of Hit and Run, my parents hit me thrice, it's done.
Still remember crying fifty tears just to greet the dying sun.
That's a metaphor – bet I'd snore, never even listening.
I beat amateurs up, bet I'd do it with my words, diction start glistening.
Cleaned up my foul mouth, my derriere makes tracks as Cuban made the Mavericks.
Pristine as the Listorene my teeth still pastine green all for the hitting licks.
Vesey, still messy, a little sloppy when I blast off to picks of Bessie.
Nessie was a myth, but a monomyth megaphoric is me.
Thank you, Jessie. I never was scared of making a friend until the day you came.
I used to slur my words up – ratatat lame.
You people praise me for my dogmatic lines.
But really I'm thinking it's just these new vines.
I leap and leap bounds ahead just to wait to get an ounce of head.
I cry as a woman, and live for sex as a bullet burns for lead.
What I live for is a chance to die on the set of Bill Nye.
A sweatshirt draped in tie dye, pour one out for this reverand on a driveby.
I hit a bit of fame when I dropped those bars over a Lamar sitar string song.
Now everybody's flexing Vess as their mess on a sing­a­long.
Prance­a­long to the fits of my sexuality.
And hit yourself twice if you're thinking this is my own conceptuality.
Duality not needed, I'm fine with nine lives.
The cool cats get eight, and I'm sectored off to get by fine with these nine fives.
Never working these nine­to­fives to live on a wage of ninety­fives.
I used to get all A's, but that was back when I had ninety lives.

You all think you're the greats now, I'm waiting for my payment.
I'll never live in paradise, and I said what I meant.
This is for the people who are living to see my dying.
You'll never get a shred of dignity 'cept when I'm crying.