Kevin McCallister

Just another day in the office, using my offensive ways as my offense. Wait, I’m never offensive!
Nor am I talking shit. Y’all are all pensive waiting for my pen to dance. I enhance when I rap. There is your chance. In fact, you can take away the fact I dance when I rap. I just grew. What to adjust to? In love with you but who loves me more, god or aliens? So afraid that I got these aliens in a sticky position. No more am I posing, I get it in. I’m listening deeper than ever before. The weather is bored, let me make it rain

Mama doesn’t exist, so I guess I’m going home, I guess I’m going home alone
My father doesn’t mean shit, so I guess I’m going home alone
Obviously, that’s it. But I guess I’m going home alone
Said I guess I’m going home, I guess I’m going home alone

My grandmother say I don’t play the piano enough. Well she doesn’t understand that it’s love. I can’t use my talent to overdose and use the balance that I channel when I go in. And I’m dancing when I’m flowing. I can’t dance when I’m playing the piano. So then, I got to stay still. Imagine the chords. Imagine the lords just dancing, grabbing the floor. As if He’s praying to the flow. Sometimes I’m unable to go But then He says “So?” So when God says to do it, my head says “Extra Movement Time!” Blessings from the you-know-who. And pardon me sixes, but you’re beautiful

Mama doesn’t exist, so I guess I’m going home alone
My father doesn’t mean shit, so I guess I’m going home alone
Obviously, that’s it. But I guess I’m going home alone
Said I guess I’m going home, I guess I’m going home alone

Why do y’all pretend that you don’t exist? Especially when my flow is THIS. Y’all understand every poet’s spit. But you don’t understand the holy glimpse that I give y’all just by holding your hips. And making sure you dance to the holy shit that I give, present, spit, live with. The difference isn’t with y’all. In fact, it pisses y’all off. But I ain’t trying to get like them! They wish to get my phlegm, spit the way that I spit. I give away like Red Hot Chili Peppers in a mosh pit. The new Flea, riding the bass, no loose leaf. Praying one day you can do me while I’m not asleep

Mama doesn’t exist, so I guess I’m going home alone
My father doesn’t mean shit, so I guess I’m going home alone
Obviously, that’s it. But I guess I’m going home alone
Said I guess I’m going home, I guess I’m going home alone