Chapter that pain..title it Inevitable Being,
The title has no lesson with no original meaning,
Critically seeing, my wardrobe is more bold in a city,
Where repeaters are the majority of copiers who envy;..
The hard work u put in, they never understand, that now that i am a ”star” i started it out just a fan;...
Of the man...who read books more than shooting rubber, tieing rubbers after luvers after luvers who wasnt ready to be younger mothers;
I discovered..that fortunate is force to sit, right next to our supporters.and between the ones who be forcing it;
How do I win with only 5 in my bleachers and some over expensive sneakers that never ever gave me Jordans features;
I bore the keepers, and keep the boring, passing to friends that claim they scoring but really touring;..
Your goals getting a free trial, at least.when it comes to your Mrs (misses) they getting the rebound..
And thats me...an unachieving athlete,
Looking for a Rosa Parks while sitting in the back seat;
Thats sweet...”G hold ur head boy”, they waiting 4 the f up,
Your success is sliming down and they're looking for the next up;
But I'ma keep going till Trump knows my name, till Obama notices my aim and till Brady respects my game..Ima keep going until Beiber loses his fame..and for that I remain intellectually insane;
We have the feds aiming for the heads,
Of black kids throwing signs to the cops for what they did;....
To the homies, sparing all the solid foneys,
I hold my head down when I wave just so they dont know me;
I never cracked pitched but hip hopped,
And work harder than the kids in sweat shops;
Its child labor...wonder when your gonna meet your maker,
But if thats the case then tell me God who is my savior?
Holy Ghost..have a toast around a round table,
F the men around tables telling sound fables;
Dreams of a big scence on a screen or magazine,
Looking for a fein to sell my work too just so they can dream;
Its crazy...wasnt born in the eightys, but ninety babies know the most, when it comes to the toast;
Now its burned brown man laying still,
Over a Rolex..now u know that times are real;
F hate...love takes a toll on the soul,
Looking for a glamour life lusting for the black and gold;
Age old...rare breeze going one hundred degrees,
Never really winning..just maintaining the lead;
But take charge in what I commit,
I know the world will proably have a fit;
And now they are taking cencorship to internet,
F the government...yea I said it and dont give a SHIT!
The title has no ending, my words is just me venting, the friends I call my friends either love me or just pretending;
I thirst for a mention, I love the competition, my player cards are limited and never ment condition;
Im listening...to gang ish, thug music got my mind mixed,
Im driving...to a smooth mix, of r'n'b with groove clips, that cool ish...
My thoughts are in my chest, my heart replace my head, brought my brain a new vest, as my memories are dead;
But instead...my sheild needs no existance I hate resistance,
I take it all in stride weighting my options with true fitness;
Forgivness? My sins are the biggest...
Acts of buisness and a crime witness contradicting all of my comitments;
Voice-less, options really choiceless, and even though they know this, I clearly sit and voice stress;
Make my moves through vortex, and more vexed, and words formed out of context forms complex..im passed "next";
Futuristic and doubted, all my cords are routed...to take a trip to Hell if my actions allowed it;
But to test my intellection and complection of my reflections;
Got me using blogged quotes in less sophisticated texting sessions;
Hate the questions!... My answers just form a mess,
And even with a lot to say...i remain voice-less;
Team red...dreams dead, bump moon and sunlite,
Speech dumb but it sounds like,
Left speech that sounds right;
Glory days are crazy...glory ways make me lazy;
I love money, I like life and lust for nice ladies;
Take care of these babies, that make me, think crazy;
People I care for the most are starting to hate me;
Go hard like Game 3..call me Nowitzki,
But game 7 mean the most but game 1 is what made me...crazy;
Team blue...no clue, of what I got to offer,
In love with my posture which makes me a monster;
Lobster to crabmen that dont believe in karma,
Difficuly on unbeatable but I need to go harder;
Father? No dad,
Like playing football with no pads;
Taking these hits are so sad, but the pain dont make me feel bad;
Im so glad...that I rarely have a history of mysery, a mystery to pretend to be,
A black kid with no chemistry..the end of me;
Team white...looks like, my life has a pic site,
Image all my passion in a flic type;
Sit right..up to the vision of my vision,
Stunting is my mission and marry Ms. Ambition;
Im wishing..that courage was easier then fear,
This is the red, white and blue of a long damn year;
