I miss it. The deep breaths relieve stress, exhale and release a mess of words scattered across the page but it make sense when I say it. My heart collaborated with my mind the same way it doesn't when im layin on the mattress, sayin whatever comes to mind so I take in as much as I can and absorb. I can see you on the outside but you burn in my core until I vomit and my stomach acids back up the track but a new verse couldn't even stack up to the first. I keep the page loaded to let off whenever needed. The tracks been seeded and im growin like weeds and I aint never gettin pulled out, the lines that are ruled out and ruled out cuz they so ill they got you screamin like schools out. I woke up and the mic was in my line of sight. I aint got time to write so im spittin for my life cuz I aint got time to live so I got time to give. You can find me in the booth until the day I get big. Dig.
Sotp: hittin all tha spots - otb productions.
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