Light stressor, I’m under tight pressure
My bright shirt exerts a fly dresser with the
Nike whites shoes I use for flight fresher. Refresh ya,
like a bottle of sprite I delight ya, in spite of,
my crisp after-taste, lemon lines they go to waste
Replace them with an ace, putting rhymes into their place
Facing the faded faces faking fire, fame defaced.
Tracing the hated to the places that aspire us to make
our tracks, which get tracked to the bases of lying corporate snakes.
Hit the brakes and awake, a life’s at stake
To the horrors which I borrow for the beats that I make
For goodness sake, what have I done,
It’s a big mistake to expose the one,
But I have just begun, you won’t blow out this smokin’ gun.