BUILDING BLUEPRINT

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Untitled Song

I’ll use telekinesis to raise smelly feces in the she species face. I ain’t tied on no leash. I can say what I want so please watch me. I’m tight in a race. Fighting through the fast pace. Lights out it’s fucking night now I’m the last in my lane. I smite these gay blights. I sachet by making rappers die. Why the fuck would I be kind. I’ve been defiled and violated and misplaced. Compiled with distaste. Wild I am beguiled I go ham on these damn rap pads. These bitches need fucking maxi pads when I come back from reaking havoc. Last time wasn’t a bad crime. Dash back to Anaheim anytime. Flashing a rhyme in a grimy city dying. Standing as a teen in line to go see ditty cry over his pity pile. Im inclined to shine where others recline. Retire because they’re tired of these retards farting and starting fires when they don’t get what they desire. Just gives me time to fly higher. And I might be fucking Michael Myers in how I’m wired. Take some fucking pliers and drive them through my mind like a fucking scryer searching for rhymes. Seeking some lines, preaching and teaching that every syllable is refillable over time.

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A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.