The way I rhyme ain’t nothing but some internalized crimes,

watching my shadows hit the beats, I’m that psychotic pantomime

slaying the demons that lurk in my mind

subverting the soul to musical notes, I laugh at all that question my writing ability

the creativity to switch from subjectivity to objectivity,

that white knight pitter patter I splatter internal rhymes

gestate poetical gestures until you stutter at my leisure,

yes I’ll send you convulsing into a seizure

hook: I’ll never subside until I make sure you choke on your pride,

institutionalize your brain until you stride towards your grave

no one’s seen this young buck before

player speaking truth sayer contriving layers of melodic flow (for the soul),

I’d like to say that my goals will give warmth to your soul

but that shit’s old, if you want artificial go listen to the radio

I have no claim to fame,

no name inscribed into an estate that elicits my good fortuned faith,

so I just calibrate my brain to the songs of NWA,

that rich boy torero listening to black stereo,

wondering how it would be growing up in poverty

hello, my name is Diego the living contradiction of my condition

spent my first indiction traveling the world seeing human murals of inequality,

don’t know how its supposed to be but I sure got lucky,

figure I’d spend this time contemplating this fucked up world industry

its incongruity is surely a travesty, at the very least it’s a question of whether this is how its supposed to be,

I write about my mental instabilities yet it dulls in comparison to these insolvencies,

we are supposed to be livin’ in a democracy yet their are different levels of equality,

land of opportunity based on a triangular economy,

(something should go here)

I know people look at my observations half-heartedly

ridiculing my intentions of having communistic tendencies yet that is not my philosophy

simply an observer of world wide atrocities trying to make sense of what’s in front of me

invest opportunities given to me by lending voice to those in poverty

I’ve got the tendency to act like a child when it comes to certain responsibilities

but wisdom to fill my sights with inspiring lights

20–20 lyrical visionary I curse the tactless bastard that blames poverty on the impoverished

I’ll open the back door alley make allies with graffiti’ed souls scoring the next rock,

sit back guns cocked ready to drop the certifiable fool that sees the world through cataracts,

give the narrow minded heart attacks through exhilarating verbal annihilation

slay rhyme schemes make them regurgitate their steak till their catatonic mind state disintegrates

This song isn’t for the aloof I’ll make you see yourself as a fool

I’ll never subside until I make sure you choke on your pride,

institutionalize your brain until you stride towards your grave

no one’s seen this young buck before

player speaking truth sayer contriving layers of melodic flow (for the soul),

I’d like to say that my goals will give warmth to your soul

but that shit’s old, if you want artificial go listen to the radio

I have no claim to fame,

no name inscribed into an estate that elicits my good fortuned faith,

so I just calibrate my brain to the songs of NWA,

that rich boy torero listening to black stereo,

wondering how it would be growing up in poverty.

living life I’ve never had to worry about a penny,

every time it got hard I bought my way out of reality,

snorting and smoking myself into a daze,

hallucination prominent, I made sure the haze never left me

as sick as I can be assassinate vocabulary in the hopes of repenting for my ill mentality

trying to inflate the universe with my auspicious soul,

I stay rocking the boat until my very last note,

makin’ holes in the walls that stratify society, progress to some form of reality

I try to erase the misogyny often associated with rap philosophies

those that came before me were only trying to overturn this fucked up society,

if a white suburban life had the same mentality would he be left to the derogatory?

I’m not sure how it’s supposed to be, I’m just a man who’s standing as he’s talking

walking around seeing the casualties of this harsh capitalist reality,

they tried to put me down, ground me in their society but I’m tired of their double standard neurology,

could never fit my brain into the ever consuming world of technology

so I burrow further into my writing integrity

[ You hear nothing on my pussy questing abilities (cuz) ]

I feel that my composition could be better applied to intellectual capacities,

talking about romances aint nothing but some self absorbed philosophy,

if you want artificial go listen to the radio, this song is finished go read a book or help out some children that haven’t gotten the legitimate privileges to surpass the richest.