Broke Rapper ft. TMB-08 Lyrics

I instantly grabbed

Started jotting down fire raps

Like I motherfucking usually am

Writing things that I wish I had

A broke rapper

Yo nothing really matters dark matter is inside my scattered

Pieces of mind on notebooks splattered

Need to find me a pattern black thoughts are around me and like the rings of Saturn

I know that i am good yo but I am flattered

When you tell me my music matters

Listening to me complaining

Be hearing

The words I am saying

Try to rhyme as many words as I can

Syllables multis and punchline man

I know that I am complex I understand

Dream of mine harder than reality taking a toll on my mentality

Try to make something real from a fantasy

And I really hope that I am not a fallacy

A false prophet

That cannot profit on his ideas

Dropped in a coffin

Looking in the mirror seeing nobody talking

Where is hades gonna give him my tokens

In the meantime it is all grand wishing

Brandishing my words as a mass weapon

I wonder what if all my thoughts i have written

Would i be motivated and so driven

In the front seat behind the wheel i have ridden

But i still be in my room mad sitting

Reminiscing bout a future missing

Working hard trying to make a living

Of these words

That I am thinking and the rhymes

That I am spitting and the talent i am possessing is indeed god

Given but I bust my ass

Sacrifices given till my empty pockets start on filling

And i use force and abuse words while i record cut my v chords like loose swords create cool songs that I then Hoard cause i hoard them so much oh jeez

I am a poet with no words

I am play boy with no whores

I am a demon with no lords

I am a dreamer with no gold oh Lord

I have been killed then reborn

I am a soul that knows fall

Fell so much but I stand tall

As breezy as a free fall and I bounce as much as a b ball

I am not from the streets

But I know no defeat

All the shit that I feel

I release on a beat

Disperse my fears

Till nothing appears blood

Sweat and tears

Till I break all the mirrors

Shit is real to me yo I am not playing

I am not trying to be stuck on a desk job

My awful life is giving me a pep talk

All I see is fog and start a killing spree dog

Brandishing my words as a mass weapon

I wonder what if all my thoughts i have written

Would i be motivated and so driven

In the front seat behind the wheel i have ridden

But i still be in my room mad sitting

Reminiscing bout a future missing

Working hard trying to make a living

Of these words

That I am thinking and the rhymes

That I am spitting and the talent I am possessing is indeed god

Given but I bust my ass

Sacrifices given till my empty pockets start on filling

And I use force and abuse words while I record cut my v chords like loose swords Create cool songs that I then hoard cause I hoard them so much oh jeez