5 minutes to write at night
 

I write in spite of me, a message urgent for you.
Dwight Howard like dunks with speed relative to Iverson.
In person, I ain't say shit to yo' face,
but spent on the net, the ways I spit about race.
Rappers be talkin mad shit about this and that.
Nigga fuck dat. I rap at my own pace,
in the space seen and mapped by the previous
sucka emcees straight draining spleens & slappin daps.
Whack ass mandates passed by the government
passed by mad ass mothafuckas dubbed by your tongue.
Ain't dentin' shit when you thought was a head shot.
My shit spot on, bought and paid for by the people.
Ain't got a vote yet they say I am legal.
Status as rapped fuss smacking you ass back
to the old days…
when we creepin up on yo hoe.
Splittin yo skull till it seems to be null.
Yo, I ain't say shit that ain't been already said.
Chillin on my bed day dreaming bout' getting' head.

and if I see you on the streets, it's time to spark shit
& I'd run up in your crib, but i'd get car sick...


~OUCH

We will spark shit together one day, crack or weed & your choice
Our crib will be the street, and we'll play chicken with traffic...
screamin, "meep meep," we'll be bums.
The wick will burn and so will our souls
For ever doubting each others poor flows.

My past life was tossed up like salads
Thick masses hit the bottom, while leafy greens came up
My backwards story aint even below the flo'
Its flows arent above average & neva raised up at an even que
You right - my shit ain't tight.
My shit neva sits where the floor aint, damnit dude.