Based

A lot on my mind, tired of being the best, they want G' to stop but there's unequal protest.

Unrest in my brain, I think it's time to step down, leave enough for the masses, or unappeal the mass majority with mass fermentation.

Gasping for air, heir to the king of Harold II, no oxygen, only despair beyond repair, G' gonna fix that.

Feel an erk in my soul, fake rap like Lil Durk, protect ya neck Wu-Tang or be them Charlie Kirk's, gotta play them Charlie Brown's or wear them Browns for church.

Heap from excitement, I take the crown with dignity, back to square one again, catching logperch or chopping birch for green leaves or blood money over salty seas.

The world is a stage, everythings fake, from gay celebrations to Hollywood cannibal steaks, illuminati fakes, or soul taking baits, or so they say.

Tired of this fake world, I'm ready for that day, but no one knows the hour, nor the angels or those in power, blackouts over cities, moon turned red, those left behind will see no pity.