I’m so sick of all his goddamn lies. The shit he spouts from his fuckin mouth wouldn’t attract a pack of flies. Thinkin we believe him he goes on with his day. No one except me knows the lies he’s tellin’. Stories that won’t sell ain’t good for sportin’, acting as if he even could. Ugh!, Who the fuck he really think he is? He ain’t no better and truthfully never has been. To call him on itI wish someone would. He then might see it’s not a far fall from his own fuckin tree. I hate it when he gets me mad like this. Where he forces me to use my talent in less presentable ways. He’s the unhappiest man I’ve ever met in all my 39 years of life. Always seeming filled with so much anger, he comes off as mean and only bitter. Like the fucker hasn’t lived a life not knowing what happiness really is. I’d very much differ before believing that. When his true colors begin bleeding through he pulls em right back. Leaving me standing all alone because it was all a show. If I pulled ‘A Him’ on him, he’d get so damned mad. It would only keep tension in between us. Our unsettled arguments leave behind a very uneasy vibe, containing that carmatic energy of things left unsaid. I try to set that shit free as often as I can. Replacing it with jokes, laughter, and music instead.
The real sick shit is I’ll always love his rotten ass. And I’ll never leave his side because I’m a ride-or-die.
My anger has now subsided thanks to some crunk music and funny shit I hear in certain lyrics. That’s why I vibe with it so awesomely. I get to acting extra and being plumb dumb. Lip singing only very out loud, for real you guys.