Alternative-rest-room-writings, I am on some other-shit

Food for thought festival, So extra-terrestrial and my brain is the mother-ship

Make them all claim, “This stuff ain’t-fair-man

He’s studying shamans in the sub-sa-haran”

All I can say is, o I think she likes me because-she’s-starin’

Chance favors the prepared mind, So there isn’t enough-pre-parin’

I hope you start to get it, I hope you are finally understanding

When it comes to studying the game, I feel like Peyton Manning

I can call an audible any-time using the past lines I’ve said

And my neck doesn’t hurt, I hurt others whenever I turn heads

Their neck pulls so fast that all the nerves go dead but instead

Of having an injury reserve here, I just have injury herbs near

Smoke away the pain, Smoke towards the pleasure

Smoke to stay sane, Floating like the feather

At the beginning of Forrest Gump

I mean I light up and turn a whole forest into stumps

Because I don’t have time to meditate like the monks

And my words always have to carry weight like The Klumps

(Bustin’ with a

Machine gun mind

Set on automatic rhyme

Holding down the trigger

All the fucking time

So upwards goes the muzzle

As these bullets fly

I guess you could say

I’m shooting for the sky…)

Married to the game, So I can’t love you, I’m all about monogamy

I know it isn’t fair but I never mentioned affairs, Girl get on-top-of-me

I possess her like an apostrophe’

I approach life with a philosophy picked up from years of playing monopoly

I will not stop until I own all the property

I play it so properly, The flow is so scholarly

And everytime I pass go… 2 hundred lines…

“Dude’s bustin’ rhymes”

I can’t feel my face

“Dude’s snuffin’ lines”

Al Pacino, Mean-flow, All I’ve got are my balls and my word…

And I’ve got a few numbers to make the call for some herb…

I Smoke it down and then go up… What?…

I’m the lighter side of the seesaw

Make them say, Damn man… He’s raw

But I know they’ll build you up, Just so they can watch you free-fall…

(I’ve got a

Machine gun mind

Set on automatic rhyme

Holding down the trigger

All the fucking time

So upwards goes the muzzle

As these bullets fly

I guess you could say

I’m shooting for the sky…)

Shoot for the stars… If you miss, at-least your off this planet

No gravity to grab at me, Why can’t you understand it

They say I’m all about the pot like I study ceramics

So now my flow will be reprimanded, Because I’m just being candid

I knew the flow would grow, All I had to do was plant it

So I approach this with relentlessness

And provide the light for photosynthesis

And everything you try to bring to life is on some December-shit

No new plant life will form so you better remember this,

In the spring I go the hardest just to accumulate the harvest

So when winter comes around I laugh at whoever’s starvin’

Because when they claim there is a drought

What they really mean is they’re out

Because preparing for their future wasn’t something they were about,

No doubt, All these students just need a tutor, see…

This type of shit is what I just do-for-free

The only thing I love more than I, Is the future me

So when they ask why I do it, I admit it’s all for him

And if he could come back In time, he’d thank me, and say what a friend…

Because I’m prepared to deliver, Yet again…

(With a

Machine gun mind

Set on automatic rhyme

Holding down the trigger

All the fucking time

So upwards goes the muzzle

As these bullets fly

I guess you could say

I’m shooting for the sky…

I’m just shooting for the sky)