I never paid attention in class, even told the teacher to kiss my ass,
I guess thats why I never even got an A or passed a class,
But forget all that non sense I just want to be cool,
Lately I been on the corner which aint that, should of stayed my ass in school.
Its not your turn to talk, so shut the hell up, no words,
Its not your turn to walk, park those legs girl, you not leaving me,
Its not your turn to borrow money, where is that $5 you owe me,
If its not your turn sit your ass down, and wait your damn turn.
Hand me the mic so I can spit a sick verse,
So wild and crazy yet I don’t even need to curse,
With a wicked rhyme scheme that quenches thirst,
Of the thirsty rappers and hip-hop community with blessed ears,
That knows true lyricism and masterful mic skills,
I reach for my pen to bleed ink on these pages,
Of all the pain and struggles I felt keeping from going insane,
It’s a shame my words won’t echo over the ear waves to feed the needy,
But it will surely beat up the block, streets and local open mics,
Who welcome young emcees to stand up and rip the mic,
So as I sit there waiting for my name to be called,
I am breathing heavily thinking on my delivering and growing some balls,
So once I hear my name jumping out the speaker box while crowd looks around,
I shall pour out my heart and be true to who I am as I put it down,
So hand me the mic so I can let loose some bars, a freestyle or a sick cypher,
And make sure my mic is loud because I want the whole world to hear me now.
How did I even get here, this love is so odd, This chick sold my house, car and even my damn dog, I could have I told that she wasn’t to be loved from the very start, But I was a sucker for love, with a heart that is now torn apart.