It’s the return of the rebel
Spittin bars like a devil
Stuck on a level above hell
But below heaven, reveling
In the shadow of his peers
Who fear the results of drinking beer
But near-death experience makes it clear
That they’ll put it all on the line
To find solace in the absence of mind
And in the presence of blindness
But I grind
9 to 5, and then from 5 to 9
Lie down, throw in the towel
and then I rewind
Repeat the cycle again
Sit with a pad and a pen
Trying to win, down ten
in the bottom of the ninth
Fightin to pass the class
Sittin in the back with his ***
Focused not on writin notes
But writin rhymes
Sightin dimes as he shuffles down the hallway
Talkin to tall, jaded playas
And fakas, ya’ll wait
No matter how tall your ego is
If I reach the top of the game
The top of your ego
Will only feel the bottom of my chain