CHALLENGER'S RAP

• I fucking hate the things I talk about,
• Drowning in the drops around me coming from my water spout,
• People ask me all the time whats on my mind to hear me out,
• But I never tell the best of it, fuck the benefit of the doubt,
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• Crowded with ideas and some theories of my own,
• I try to better my go-getter self by breaking all my bones,
• Let myself get stuck and fuck around my room until I eat,
• Because I feel when I am self-fulfilling, I feel real complete,
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• Always on my feet when asked to do tasks in all of my classes,
• The air I breathe's super smooth, my words are thick like molasses,
• All the shit I see is clear to me, but maybe I need glasses,
• Cause my words are heard absurdly when I'm speaking to the masses,
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• My friends are kissing ass, and as for me, myself, and I,
• I try to find the time to write and watch the time supplied go by,
• Ticking and tocking on the clock, I'm stocking up to go to war,
• Because my lyrics tend to send my competition to the floor,
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• Fuck writing 'bout the money and the mansions and the whores,
• If that shit was really true, men in blue knockin' at your doors,
• I disrespect the intellect of y'all injecting all your fiction,
• Cause the wicked words I write is real, a deeper, dark depiction,
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• Maybe writing rap that happenin' is somewhat an addiction,
• Maybe while life is flying by, writing it down can give it friction,
• Maybe the mystery of who I am give's my lines no restriction,
• Maybe I'm tryin' to find a way to stay the same, no definition,
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• My thoughts are barely flowing, my emotion's rarely bleeding,
• You will never hear my voice by choice, my rhymings just for reading,
• Wanna blow up in the game and show that I am still succeeding,
• So I gotta talk about my thoughts, because the rest of me is fleeting.