Sick To Death



If I had to list the shit that just rubs me the wrong-way
Well that's a long list , so this could be a long-day !
My mind's a volcano about to blow a strong-spray
Of lava on the world and leave it burnt like Pompeii
But first off-on-the-list
Would be the whirlwind of monotonous-pricks
Getting signed up, thinking they're hot-in-their-whips
When they're as talented as a piece of rhinoceros-shit
Those and the ones flopping-their-lips
About how they're on the block, and they're poppin'-them-clips
You're not a blood, and you're not-in-the-crips
Don't give a fuck where you're from you'll get shot-in-your-ribs
This industry needs a sarcophagus-quick
I truly hope Rick Ross trips, and his esophagus-rips
It's just as well I ain't famous or up-in-the-Brits
What with the murderous thoughts I have as often-as-this
Sick of living lower-class
Where we're all on benefits, shottin or we're growing-grass
Crazy mentalities growing-fast
So many stabbings now, even the news reports ain't so-aghast
Pissed off with this block-mentality
Everyone in the role of being lost-in-tragedy
From a kid, this attitude's adopted-gradually
Til you just repeat the cycle of concocted-fallacies
Sick of rappers claiming that they represent-the-slums
When there ain't a track they ever made that don't mention-guns
Either that or they parade how they spent-their-funds
Posing with chicks in a whip they only rented-once!
Sick of being broke-as-hell
In a city where nearly everyone else is broke-as-well!
Every track I ever made I devote-myself
But with this game full of fakes how am I supposed-to-sell?!
Wondering if I'll make a living off Hip-Hop
Cause right now, I'm living off the chicken and chip-shop
Pissed off with being pissed-off!
Pissed off there ain't a fucking point where this list-stops !
Sick of all these phony-friends
Acting close, but only wanna know-me-when
It's useful, might as well of not known-me-ten
Days ago, But if I blow I bet I'll be your homie-then !
Sick of not getting respect-I-deserve
Not even a third, see the skill etched-in-my-words
Ain't really sure if I'm blessed-or-I'm-cursed
To be addicted to these rhymes and perfecting-this-verse
Pissed of with being human
Stuck on a rock with infinite mysteries looming
We should be moving forward and improving
Instead we're all clones, too busy with consuming
Everybody just spewing the same platitudes
God forbid someone greets me with an attitude
Cause with the way I'm feeling now, you'll be battered-bruised
Blown apart and left on the ground as a pair of scattered-shoes
Sick of Earth man I'm leaving
Pissed off with every thought I'm conceiving
Why stay? Can't even think of a reason
Matter of fact I'm sick of breathing