A.R.S.

Duration

2:20

Genres

Spoken Word/Perf. Poetry

Lyrics

I'm the, Old Schoola, So let me bring it to ya Haters here me rapping, and they all be shouting hoora Like they, Staring in the mirror thinking damn they got their medoola oblangotta twisted, like she got ahold and ripped it, out your sternum, where shit's missing Now she's bitching, that you never really loved her, do ya? Now you're thinking screw ya Grab a couple beers and drink em down, Gone through a 20 pack on your own, Alcoholic motherfucker Slurring "Damn I know I loved her", but it came out, "Got a rubber" Then you climb up on another, that's a thought that makes me shutter Cause remember that we're talking bout the bitches that are critics Cause they're making me balistic, all the passion that they're missing Cause they're focused on some rules, like you have no fucking vision Rotten mind, fuck television, Single focus, What I've writen, Second thought, on what I've not Help the silence on with pot, And I think that I ought'a put'a little John Cage in some music these days That was 4:33 performed perfectly by Me, Best part is that, it's completely free, for a period at least, I'm the wind that makes the breaze and the rustle of the leaves on the trees, and the birds or the bees, On your knees , Realize that all the noise in this city is really me, Sitting pretty on my perch, Cause I've been this way since birth, But my problems not a curse, You might think its simple, realize you aint the first, But it's really not my fault when you didn't get my verse, So just shut the fuck up and listen so that I can quench your thirst, With a couple nouns and verbs, and maybe some made up words, and some shit that sounds absurd, And I hope you get the message, or at least the fucking point, If you ever need to find me I'll be rolling up a joint.