The Velocirapper

I'm just a poet with a black rose with a burden that grows/

certain that my heat never glows only stays froze/

whats goin' through my brain they think they know/

feel my pain when it rains it snows/ like eight below/

a tantrum is what I'd hate to throw/ once I blow its to late to go/

I'll make Hell look like Alaska I'm on that cold shit/

If I had a soul I would have sold it/

for fame or at least a gold brick/

I'm in it for the money like young girls suckin' old dick/

so sit back relax take a fuckin' bowl hit and hold it in/

till your lungs start flippin'/

always ill with these rhymes I'm spittin'/

hittin' weed while I write this written