Last updated on September 9th, 2014 at 10:43 pm
I would like to blame Relax Wines, other German wines I cannot pronounce and Amathia Soapworks for this freestyle.
Well, I’m coming down with something, so felt like doing this.
Aiyyo, I’m coming down with something… something FIERCE.
Yeah, I’m getting sick—REAL sick.
I’m infected with influenza—interrupts my intuition
Seems as if all the bacteria use kamikaze ammunition
Upon my central nervous system—got this inflammatory feelin’
Guess it was from the microbes that the amoebas were dealin’
I’m hacking away on a keystyle and in the audio sense
As my saliva coats whatever is in my general presence
Because I spit quick and hard—you wanna be in its direction
I’ll get you sick too from my vocal inflexions
Let the viral venom go down into your system in an instant
This is the medicine you need no matter what ya mama is insistin’
You could just play it safe and have a clean bill of health
But those who play it healthy never get themselves the wealth
And when I got you coughin and wheezin’—you’ll be believin’
That it’s in your best interests to avoid the flaxseed, and
If you want to get better then you need to get sick
Because what four outta five doctors tell you is just a dirty trick
When you’re sick, to get better, you just need to get sicker
‘Cause if you get better, then you’ll get sick quicker
But if you’re not sick, you better find someone who’s sicker
Or else you’ll never get sick, and you want to, that’s the kicker
(end for now)
Just an idea. Playing on the meaning of “sick”.
–case p.
I was thinking about keystyling something to a beat I’d never used before. So, it just came to me to use Mary J. Blige’s “Happy”, and I came up with this.
I see—people slaving their lives and days away
So that they’ll pay their bills off with their menial pay
Who really enjoys what they do and how they do it?
I know of a majority who’d like to just up and screw it
What am I supposed to be when I’m done university?
A doctor, lawyer, or CEO, that’s what they keep tellin’ me
Deviating from the pre-set paths is unacceptable
If we stray, we’re led to believe that it’s uncorrectable
Delectable is freedom from the constraints
I’m told to fight for my right, but also showing restraint
It sounds fishy—everybody’s talking in double
Looking for me to blow up, so I’ll get them outta trouble
Nah, son—these ain’t no politics, so why’s everybody two-faced
Instead of direction, too many dudes are going two ways
I keep on thinking I should quit and stop givin’ a fuck
Because gaining happiness is simply having good luck
All I really want is to be happy
For society to stop tryin’ to trap me
I could be a drone but I rather rap, see
‘Cause that’s the kinda thing that would make me happy
All I really want is to be happy
For society to stop tryin’ to trap me
I could be a drone but I rather rap, see
‘Cause that’s the kinda thing that would make me happy
I ain’t from no ghetto, but livin’ life is still hard
It’s tough bringin’ to the table when you ain’t ownin’ cards
You gotta understand—I plan on being the man
Plan on getting myself some land so that I’ll meet my demands
And sow my own seeds—not trying to work for nobody
And the chances to win are constantly seemin’ spotty
Snotty kids always trying to shut the struggling down
But then, you’re used to keepin both your feet on the ground
Keep at it—work hard—eventually you too can rise up
Take a look at the situation—make sure to size up
All of your options—let the world know that you’re meaning business
Make them anticipate you more than felons’ conjugal visits
You’ll never miss it—that is, I mean, the way you used to be
Failure and despair will all be just old news to see
Your fam, your livelihood, your world on the map, g
That’s all you really need simply to be happy
All I really want is to be happy
For society to stop tryin’ to trap me
I could be a drone but I rather rap, see
‘Cause that’s the kinda thing that would make me happy
All I really want is to be happy
For society to stop tryin’ to trap me
I could be a drone but I rather rap, see
‘Cause that’s the kinda thing that would make me happy
I only got to two verses.
–case p.
It’s an oddity—y’all wanna pity
But I’m used to this shit, rather, used to feeling shitty
All too familiar with feeling all alone
The notion ringing in my ears like the goddamn telephone
Niggas be callin and bitches be callin too
But with all that callin I never hear “Doomz, the phone’s for you”
I was supposed to be a champ, dude was supposed to win
So why then do I feel the sadness permeate my skin?
I’m branded loser for life, you’ll find it on my gravestone
I’m similar to Mother Hubbard’s dog who didn’t get a bone
I don’t have someone for my own, better believe I’m single
And singly so, I don’t get much of a chance to mingle
I’m settling into a young adult lifestyle
Teenage years wasted—as a result, now I don’t smile
I thought I was doing what I thought was best
But now I’m heading in the wrong direction, fuck being depressed
I relied on the thoughts of others, look where it’s got me
Now I’m in a state where I once swore that this role is not me
My parents try to tell me it’ll all turn out fine
My friends tell me all I do nowadays in whine
My brothers don’t respect me, steal from me all the time
All I got left to depend on is a fuckin’ book of rhymes
I can’t remember the last time I had a good day
People always thinking I’m gay, and not the happy way
Accusation and speculation makes up much of my conversations
People trying to figure out how I deal with my situation
All my friends are either dating or fuckin’ engaged
Y’all think I got a temper problem—I’m just permanently enraged
Just because life ain’t going how I want it to…
Reality check. NOTHING ever goes the way I ever want it to
Gonna inherit glaucoma and I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome
Got a receding hairline from pops—I’m gonna be a friggin chrome dome
What I got in the future so that I should look forward
I can express this emotion—who the hell needs to use more words?
I’ve been told by shrinks I don’t know how to have fun
And my past is something from which I’m always on the run
I tell them that my world is one that lacking a sun
No warmth or sunshine, and y’all lucky that I don’t own a gun
It’s not like I wanna die, but I don’t much care to live
Almost as if I’ve given all I want to give
Question my motives and logic, see what answer you’ll get
I’m done with all this shit and I ain’t even legal in the States yet.
–case p.
I’m pissed off about ninety percent of the time
The other ten I’m asleep or I’ve already died
People ask me why I look so angry, I should be pleased to be alive
Keep asking me for reasons, and my right hand will give you five
I’ve got ability, but why do I feel I’m not moving forward
Every time I write a verse it feels like I’m wasting more words
When I draw an image it feels like I’m wasting all my graphite
I want to be happy, but it’s tough to keep up that fight
That’s right, I’m past depressed, now it’s just frustration
My life seems to be governed by more laws than a police station
Now I’ve eaten, so my fury is a bit sedated
But eventually I’ll remember all that I hated
And all that I hate, they continue to provoke me
I live with a sense of paranoia that the world will revoke me
If I vanished, it’s not like it’d matter really
Because I keep to myself mainly, not used to touchy-feely
You might look at what I’m saying, mark it off as nonsensical
But the truth behind the words won’t be sensed by your receptacle
How can you feel my emotion over your computer monitor?
Easy—I don’t have any emotions for your computer to monitor
I’m cold like a blizzard on a dark December’s night
I don’t feel true happiness, excitement, never really feel fright
This is dragging on, but I’m not sure if I care
Expressing my thoughts has always been something I’d dare
I’m not very secretive, I like to let people smell my shit stink
It’s been suggested that my immaturity is holding me back
But that’s strange when my maturity just keeps ’em coming back
People keep telling me don’t worry, you’re only 20?
What the fuck does THAT matter? I still contemplate plenty
In that case, I guess I have a forty year-old mind
It likes to keep me going, never let me just unwind
It’s like a contant struggle between the physical and mental
I wish I could go back to simplicity, when everything was just placental
I tried to stay two weeks late, but with a Caesarean section
The umbilical cord was cut, eventually I’d face my reflection
I was never much of a pretty boy, more of the underdog
Always the kid wondering what the fuck he’s doing wrong
Why he had no friends and why the bullies wanted his stuff
Wondering why for such a smart child he had it so rough
Wondering why he liked it indoors in the summer, writing his stories
Wondering what his parents saw that they thought he’s destined for glory
Well if it’s supposed to be glorious, then what the fuck is this?
If happiness is the prize, I guess the method’s hit and miss
Still reading? This isn’t interesting—it’s just a stupid rant
I’m just trying to soldier on like a colony of red ants
Speaking of ants, my aunt apparently took my hair as a child
So she could put a curse on me, now isn’t that wild?
So goes the story from my grandmother, who’s losing her grip
Same one who’s separated from me by a five-hour trip
But back on topic. What if that hex is pure reality
And that magic from my childhood is what’s steady nagging me?
Oh, there I go again. Always have to go and blame something
Other than myself—perhaps I’m in avoidance of all the reprecussions
I’ve done better than this I know, but this shit it ain’t for show
Don’t know if Doomz will live long enough to ever make it pro
Know what? I’m growing tired of posting these rhymes
Exuding my exuberant life in a finite set of lines
I think I’ll go and make myself more productive
What was the message in this shit? I think y’all better get deductive.
–case p.