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bob my head away from your jab your little knuckles sting I've been hit before nothing like pain to teach your ass when to hit the floor but this training's endured because the get back justified the reward unlikely way of saying/asking 'you all in or not' I wanted more or to be done for. If it's war play it out don't conform the enemies already touchdown if anything open your mouth now's the time to be what you speak about, you talking a house a car a family with a big bank account. Yet all it took was a look at the front line all the talk got shutdown. As profound as my thoughts are my actions rough up my edges I kept it a secret but now being lost and hedging pedestrians creating a wedge in between what we're supposed to grow into being, and all I get is ' probably go talk shit on your blog' well it's sh1t! no wonder no wongas tried to plunger my ass. No gas straight sucking and THEY WONDER why I'm mad? I got a whole lot of hate that you all could've had, but I was stuck thinking on how you would feel. Trust me you DON'T KNOW THIS FUCKING DRILL. I'm sitting sinking into my pill trying chill but honestly I'm getting filled with some 'go feel' shit. Like 'go feel' how a month or 2 out the blue would do you. I just got back from the last trip I tripped and dropped my glasses and now I can't see past this insistent bloodsucking tick on my dick. Graphic for the sake of being potentially drafted as some1 who'd stick their neck out longer than a giraffe's is just to show my passion. Crazy I feel like behind the curtains your little clinical ass is laughing, but it's cool... When I chill, it's hard to guess my mood. Come off different a completely new dude and I'm turning on the world because the world turned clues and spun rules away from crews on blocks and avenues that believed there was no limit for something like altitude. I don't know what I know, I just know what I see when I close my eyes or don't it's clear in front of me. Visions of my past flashes of words a dash of hope and a pasture of pain all things my mind grazes over before my 1st waking minute of each day is even over. I feeling you but I'm filled up. Tipping over. It's weird cause I'll communicate like every single breath I take I'm Dexter, part of me's fake and it goes ignored until its too late I'm on the boat bodies in the lake. Or beach river wherever he takes them you get my point, It's as sharp as medically safe for to be so close to and not use. Diagnosing illnesses because I feel in my mind these things are true. I'm gonna die playing basketball or die doing something with you. Not a wish another vision. I'm living when my ears listen.





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-/Rebel2Society\-v(**)