Title: Nothing

Could I please have a story to tell?

Cuz I legit just go to class then wait for the bell

And then I'm straight walkin' home - thoughts present in my dome -

But actually nothing inspiring happened on its own

But I know that the Lord's got a plan for me

Whatever that shall be, we will see;

Certainly, my life's a slow movie -

Plot's not yet a factor;

I'm playin' a mad badass and I'm a method actor

First period I'm messin'

Next I'm stressin'

Like an accent on a vowel

By break, my bowels get the best of me

And I need a vasectomy fast before third becomes last

At lunch - bangin on the table -

"here is a fable, my lines are gonna kill you like Kane did Abel

For your brain'll feel whack when they smack you in the back;

To understand my rhymes you'll have to rewind this track;

This track is a boxing match and you're in the ring;

My rhymes throwin' left and right hooks aiming for your brain

I freestyle like a speedchild on speed - not - I freestyle like a kid with ADD took Ritalin and now he just sits like a dumbass staring at one thing"

Ring, the closing bell of liberty

Like 6 months after Spring

Crew mentality was never into me

Don't chill in crews; I kick it with everyone who's true

Cuz I think they're cool

At school, breakin' with the breakdancers

Ballin' with the ballplayers

Kickin' it with Colombians and boarders of all races

My friendship has minimal boarders;

I'm not a friend hoarder;

I hang with nerds who have never heard of Sephora

Pay attention to the shaded like a rainforest's flora

Regarding rap I'm into explorin' and takin' over

Like Dora the Conquistador'a

Devil of the Rebels

Revel in the peril of the eventual existential barrelin' down of angels from heaven to the red hellhole where they make and drink Red Bull;

When I rap it'll crumble the Sistine Chapel

That's unintended bullet shrapnel;

Tryna make Art not War

True Art'll come from pain burning deep in your core

Reach your lungs before you act, your soul with feel sore

One life, one love, verse full of diction

I got an addiction of thinking deep below the mission

Look up to the biblical arm wrestle:

The devil using both hands lookin' like a mess while

Lord is lookin' round, unconcerned, no issues

He could rip the dude in half - paper tissues

Material-terialists, false idols

Look at life before you become suicidal

Bout 80 years left on the score clock

I'mma jack a step-back three and there's no block

Only hand is God's - if you against that, you against the odds