[Verse 1: Mylon Moore]

Stumbled upon my conscience in a dungeon

Encumbered by my wonders and enigmas and conundrums

It's slumbered in a bunker where my dreams are torn asunder

From reality and humbled from the troubles of my blunders

Now I'm held captive by the grasp of my passion

Dwelling in the past tense impacted all my actions

Secluded in a bastion with notepads and hashish

A bowl packed with grass and a full glass of Jack Whisk

I got a knack for this rap shit, probably

Feeling saucy from these vodka shots up in my body

Got a stye in my third eye, I can't open it widely

So I wander blindly, Anne Frankly that's something that Jew would Nazi

Quick to accept a challenging task

Known himself his whole life but can't fathom his acts

So sorry dad, let me waste a couple gallons of gas

A genius but he doesn't utilize his talents in class

[Verse 2: Mylon Moore]

Cause transcripts don't reflect intelligence

I'm so incredulous and I'm sedulous spitting pestilence

The imperfect perfectionist, possessor of the medicine

Is looking for a woman to direct this erection in

Spend my time trying to find where my mind is

But the sign says "no loitering past nine"

So let's wander to a land where the sky is neon lime

And your crime-lined mind is supplied with sublime rhymes

Flow lunar drop jaws when the bars end

Cock jocking frauds need a motherfucking lozenge

Let your mind sharpen and broaden outside the margins

I'm often coughing, from the carbon monox sparking

[Verse 3: Mylon Moore]

A cryptic critic whose lyrics are parasitic

And by statistics I'm impolitic and spit acidic

A catalytic necessity, recipe for brevity

Inequity cause there's a vas defrens like vasectomies

So prepare yourself cause the best has yet to come

Sharp as bayonets and the paycheck invests in blunts

No time for silly cons like fake breasts

Tight as gay sex at the apex next to none

A fucking indi roasting, witty joking city folk

A dual wielding woody holding, pitied, moping hardly sober

A lonely interloping, penny boasting, gritty, chosen soldier

With a plethora of niggas who don't really know him

Feeling desolate when surrounded with friends

It's confounding how this troubled child surmounted again

Instead of putting the nine to his crown announcing the end

But now the silent high Gaijin astounds with the pen

So fuck your hipster bitch, nigga fuck the clique you're with

Fuck the constipation cause it's hard for me to give a shit

And fuck the governmental for how fucked up the system is

Rich fucks don't know what the value of a penny is

They know the flow is sick, hot scolding golden shit

Bitches think I'm crazy, so reluctant just to blow my dick

It's funny how the faggots who don't fuck with me will ride my dick

I just started rapping and already fucking sick of it