Content

[Verse 1] You're now listening to some words I'm rapping That weren't planning on being heard in fact the Fact that you haven't cursed or laughed at me Deserves a clapping Now cut that sound, on a small Voluntown campground I met rap and ever since she's been my pen pal These rhymes are my love letters, tell her to send Al Some words of encouragement, you know jealous men doubt I've been down in the southeast corner of Connecticut Praying for this paper to say something worth remembering It never did, I had to use my own penmanship So these weak end-rhymes are the best lines you'll ever get I went from street busking to playing in a rock band Pa said I would never make it with that nonsense Sent me off to college, think I'm gonna stop it? Not yet! I made this for the content [Hook] Content (They came for the) Content (You know you want the) Content (You're here for the) Content [Verse 2] I hate devoting my days to what no one takes seriously So this rap album’s the last one you’ll hear from me I can barely keep up the speed and I made this track I’m cringing in my basement right now as I play it back I hate this, man; I got the hunger and right drive But the music won’t requite with so much as a high-five Don’t call me a rapper, I’m not a true rhyme sayer I’ve spent months staring at college-ruled line paper So unnatural, I stare at my pad and don’t Write a dang thing, I revert to this hackneyed flow So take me as joke, I can’t take you not taking me Seriously seriously; now who’s the laughing post? They tell me it’s fantasy, but I’ve missed so much with family I think I’m past thinking of this as a dream Answer me, what kind of man would leave A house framework abandoned when it’s already half complete? Unsure of my surname, continual comments But six years from now, you’ll see Loober on a box set Give it up, the future you already bought ten Object? You haven’t heard the… [Verse 3] Give me a new song, not some squalid ol’ doo-wop Put in some content, something solid to chew on! I been waiting too long, I’m talking to you all If you blow up I’ll stomp you out pop like a juice box I don't shoot the breeze; I harpoon it I don't beat around the bush; I charge through it This is above what your average stupid little underground rapper’s doing I’ll rest this track in peace, I don’t need flash the deuces I don’t wanna brag, but dang it, I’m creative If you think my flow’s too cold, you can microwave it You got this boy to blame for destroyin’ the game I’m the greatest rapper/producer since Hit-Boy or Ye Ay!! See I got the battle rhymes But since I don’t talk like that in my actual life These WASPs think I’m mimicking glamorized rapping life Learn the culture or else hand back the mic The artist in me was unborn past its seasons But before they could abort it, the Lord hatched the fetus Rap came to me straight from the hand of Jesus So I plan to write until I have no hands to speak with Just cause I’m inept, kept down by the grind Doesn’t mean I can’t knock you flat out with a rhyme Been holding it down since 2009 Tell me what you want! Yell it louder this time! They want the… [Verse 4] Test my authenticity, I use what God has given me To speak for those disabled without a disability I know there’s other kids like me, embarrassed to speak Life didn’t teach them entitlement in the least Bigger dreams forfeited for your little peace Cause their hearts believe you’re more worthy of everything What you know about not knowing how to answer to anything? What you know about awkwardness? Not a bit! I box and ship cringes in bulk, my job is this: A shipping-free facility to give you a nauseous twinge Still as a college kid I remain haunted with The consequence of not coming with a constant wit I’ve never been eloquent, always slow of speech But I got beats and poetry, you can’t take those from me You’ve never seen a mop cut kid go this deep Since Bieber was flowing over Throne’s Otis beat I don’t go for beef, but I can’t help noticing So many people just heeding their emotions lead Take a moment, think before you leap To a radical judgment, get your own beliefs! If anger and self-pity are your two-time mistresses If you give love your own graphite images I’m sick of it, I’m digging into this industry Listen we, are not owed what’s been given free “The love you deserve” is an oxymoron We all worship something whether our bodies or God Don’t mind me writing naïve short thoughts You hate people, you’re obviously more smart Take it from an honest self-described novice So recluse, you’d think I grew up in a convent All nod heads from the Ferry to the projects All set? Nice, that’s what we call content