Don Diego

I’m from Daygo I go by Diego

got that Spanish label

write like a psycho stirring up the cycle like Michael

bringing the hype back to the lyrical musician

fuck rap’s current ambitions,

bunch of wannabe writers lacking nutrition to write efficient

claiming they’re brilliant they’re merely sufficient

I’m beyond proficient

can’t make beats you’ll be

syncing my script to the boom as i bang bitches in the next room

you assume I’m doomed because I’m tripping on shrooms,

soon you’ll see the moon and how well I pursue the known truth;

I write better and use white privilege to get ahead of you

while you’re getting screwed by gangbanging youth

I sit in my mom’s basement figuring out word placement

adjusting syllables to my own suggestions

figuring out which bank to place my investments

I know what I spew is racially consumed but it’s better than your fake tunes

assuming I’m the criminal when you’re fool is a good way to get schooled

I’m no Eminem can’t get as graphic but I’ll still tear out your eyelids with your kid’s ribs

I’ll be sure to have you suck your dick till your prick turns pink

licking your drizzle till you’re ready for your cock guzzling career with all the queers

years of being seen as a bitch boy in a dress has made me upset

the pursuit of success exceeds your bullying attempts

aggressive tactics haven’t made me regress

I suggest you lay off the threats before you lay to rest

you will be outdone by the best as I press myself up against your mother’s chest

milking them for strength

rap game needs to return to conscientious pursuits

search for new loot hidden in old roots

I stay honed in on my convivial pursuits

fools that dissed me in my youth will be mocked

king snorting the keys smoking the finest trees

Spitting game as if all were stake

three seconds to dribble out fame before it fades

nothing keeps us from that day where we all had our say

I have the urge to masturbate

but it’d be putting it to waste

gotta keep it in a case to place in a girl’s pussycake

loopy canary doing pictionary in the mirror

window open streets moaning under rubber tire

little the wiser I past by her on my way to the televisor

loony tunes and budweiser waiting for their advisor

thinking about the day when I was right by her

naked and admired

reminisce reminisce I know I’m better than this

killing the game with my new found faith

have the space to invent my face

kinetic writer fire power

maintain every bar with new bloodstains

face the hate that’s led me to distaste

strum every note like the last on guitar

hello ya’ll pay attention to my words real closely

got a need to speak up colloquially

play every note like it was the last strum of the guitar

heart in a hearth

kindle for the brain, I’ll have the last say

every bit of pain gets thrown on the page

grapple freedom of speech

subservient unshackle relieving hassle tassel with assholes

I’ve got hold of the lasso

mark twain insightful

they spite me cuz of my nice flows

got the gold of El Dorado

cambio la lengua como lenguado

cambio de lenguas como lenguado

cazando pescados en el lago

saltando por mares agitado

todavia estoy manteniendo

creciendo con empeno enseno los chicos como chupar los senos

profesor de linguisticas

leaving you feel loaded tryin’ to sort shit by the sidewalk

mime stalks mind walks

heretical poetical sifting through blank faced intellectuals

seeing how the world unfolds

lock up my soul keep my mind sown

floating through foreign lands

the streets don’t understand who the fuck I am

white boy features seeker of rap preachers

keep them guessing ain’t no messn’ with my lessons

rhyme investor I fester minds with wide eyed lectures

private school grad making public what’s sad

handing over open forums making a stand

Steph Curry handles got you struggling (hustling from end to end)

gesturing to hit the bench but you still trying to out best the man

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.