2 Minute Practice. Crap off the top of my head.
Raised up in the church
like a roof for jesus.
Patches on my knees
from too much kneelin.
Y’all can’t understand
why I pack for four seasons
Reason’s got a plan for me.
I’m cravin’ science
No - fiending.
Losin my religion like Stipe sobbin in the corner
put my faith underground after a visit to the coroner.
And Dostoyevsky spoke to me bout fillin up with spite,
readin too much philosophy and stayin up all night
Bleedat honeys tryina get with this like a Sofia Coppola
- film
Thinking “He’s so nice and smart. I wanna be with him.”
“Fuck that shit,” is what I think but I wish I didn’t speak it.
You come off less intelligent when you’re speaking so indecent.
Believe this. I’m speechless. I tear myself to pieces.
Cracking mirrors up and down. My bad luck is gonna see this
like Hamlet on a tangent wishing Yorick didn’t leave him.
I can’t keep my tales straight, I’m sellin stories like Pynchon.
———————————————————————————
Alter rap egos…weird. Yes, I realize this is a little out of character, but I can write with a different voice than my normal one, right?
Right? Maybe…I dunno.
