Freestyle 8

“This could be interlude
Trying to get nudes
From this new girl
Not a fuck boy
Not one of those dudes
Even though my rhymes are cruel

Rhymes, that's all I still talk about
If I had nine dollar bills
Everytime some skill-less, pill-poppin, hill-billy wanted me to shout them out

In a rhyme, in a diss
Better chill out bitch
Punch cover flinch

I'm in mount
Bounce back from the ground
Crouching down

Doubting each move
Should I make a beat with a flute?
Should I rap about bred ones on my feet?
Should I take a seat
Make a three degree heat drum loop?
Fuck!
I'm getting confused
Am I just a dead beet fool
Making cruel songs in my bedroom
Is that the truth?
Removes a verse by noon
Then deletes the whole track by two
Tries to improve
But ends in a defeat
Swear my mind is like a fucking rubiks cube
Moved to red
Moved to blue
Planned on being a sweet groom
Now wanting to fuck around with two cute girls
From the streets to the bed

Gripping on her curves
Looking right at her
Swear she isn't an A.I
But still judging people in our sight at chai time
Like that one guy mixing words day n nite
Till they rhyme
Going to best buy
Buying more supplies
Oh Fuck!
Thats me”