What the hell was i thinking?!!

CATEGORY

just different

 Like the astronauts, I’m high above the atmosphere. Blunts and pieces scattered on my bed room floor. Bin Laden said I can have multiple virgins, *** that! I want many whores who would suck my and not bother to close the bed room door. I’m hard to the core. I’m patiently waiting for more. Dying slowly from big cigars, and imitating the super stars. Marijuana has me losing blood flow to my brain. Coughing brings me unbearable pain. Mom says I flushed my life down the drain. I wonder, what attracts me to this ***ed up game? I don’t have any fame, just a bunch of memories that make me feel lame. My self esteem is low and my heart is beating to slow. Definitely dying of the plague of the modern age, feeling like the people on the page in my history book. I take a look in the mirror and I see death staring back. They say I still lack in the lyrical field. It’s time to rebuild my style and stop talking politics and give the people what they want. Start saying I’m more thug than Pac and more west than Cube, when in reality I’m just a regular guy in the economic struggle. Living Prospero bound, try to leave but just find myself turning back around. Appalled by what young ladies are doing, shaking their tits hoping it will make them rich. Now addicted to ones and twenties, stuffing that in there panties. They call me sick for looking at her ass! I reply I wasn’t just going to let her pass without a fee. I should have pulled a R. Kelly and took a pee.