Skip beat #2

You know I don't mean to sound rude, but all this shit that I've construed in my mind, days at a time, mimicking other dudes' flows

Slowly getting the hang of the mangled beats and rude shows, chewed up and spit back in poetry or fluid prose

Looking up at this crazy man like he's my fuckin idol in my pragmatic mindset, as I fathom a trick so vile,

obviously darkened and strung out to the last mile, far past my old mentor and his twisted old child

If you can decipher this cypher I've singlehandedly built, with all the syllables dangling inside 'er gentle hind hilt,

Then you might start to grasp the fire recently lit, something strangely fitting for these massive levels of wit

And if you think I'ma quit, my friend, then let me tell you this:

I'm not in it to win it, nor for the money or the fame,

I'm in this business for the mental fitness attached to my name,

And more importantly my brain, which is the forefront of my game, without it, well, I suppose I'd be nothing but a damn lame, ya dig ma?

So I go in with no shame, a rare stigma one might say, staining my DNA till the very end of my daysM