Nothing

Title: Nothing Could I please have a story to tell? Cuz I legit just go to class then wait for the bell And then I'm straight walkin' home - thoughts present in my dome - But actually nothing inspiring happened on its own But I know that the Lord's got a plan for me Whatever that shall be, we will see; Certainly, my life's a slow movie - Plot's not yet a factor; I'm playin' a mad badass and I'm a method actor First period I'm messin' Next I'm stressin' Like an accent on a vowel By break, my bowels get the best of me And I need a vasectomy fast before third becomes last At lunch - bangin on the table - "here is a fable, my lines are gonna kill you like Kane did Abel For your brain'll feel whack when they smack you in the back; To understand my rhymes you'll have to rewind this track; This track is a boxing match and you're in the ring; My rhymes throwin' left and right hooks aiming for your brain I freestyle like a speedchild on speed - not - I freestyle like a kid with ADD took Ritalin and now he just sits like a dumbass staring at one thing" Ring, the closing bell of liberty Like 6 months after Spring Crew mentality was never into me Don't chill in crews; I kick it with everyone who's true Cuz I think they're cool At school, breakin' with the breakdancers Ballin' with the ballplayers Kickin' it with Colombians and boarders of all races My friendship has minimal boarders; I'm not a friend hoarder; I hang with nerds who have never heard of Sephora Pay attention to the shaded like a rainforest's flora Regarding rap I'm into explorin' and takin' over Like Dora the Conquistador'a Devil of the Rebels Revel in the peril of the eventual existential barrelin' down of angels from heaven to the red hellhole where they make and drink Red Bull; When I rap it'll crumble the Sistine Chapel That's unintended bullet shrapnel; Tryna make Art not War True Art'll come from pain burning deep in your core Reach your lungs before you act, your soul with feel sore One life, one love, verse full of diction I got an addiction of thinking deep below the mission Look up to the biblical arm wrestle: The devil using both hands lookin' like a mess while Lord is lookin' round, unconcerned, no issues He could rip the dude in half - paper tissues Material-terialists, false idols Look at life before you become suicidal Bout 80 years left on the score clock I'mma jack a step-back three and there's no block Only hand is God's - if you against that, you against the odds