Titles are Overrated

Moral codes that programmed my Frontal Lobe,

Same guidelines we use to chastise Local Joes,

A man's eyes shines right into his Soul,

But when the sun go down so does Mo Dough,

Stakes are brought up and to the victor the Spoils Go,

And we all see that what Turmoil Shows,

Is that that I can die for my beliefs but there's no such thing as Loyal Bones!

Because these kids follow but they don't Hold Their Own,

Speakin to elders with the Coldest Tones,

Gettin wasted on streets and trippin on Folded Toes,

And to keep away ideas they aren't Supposed to Know,

Until they get high with homies and Go to Shows,

Isolated at the dinner table and it Goes to Show,

That humans will always pick Sticks and Stones,

Even when the Kid Is Grown,

I guess that's our nature but it's Sick and Loathed,

Pick at the heart of these Tricks with Hoes,

I question what they ignore laying it down Brick by Brick at Home,

So no wolf can come and Spit at these Rigged Chodes,

Bridged Those concepts you though was Quick to Erode,

Because sometimes they Rig the Roads,

Hiding in the bushes ready to ambush Hidden In Holes,

Devils come in all different Skins and Forms,

Trying to shine the light before your Ripped and Torn,

Slashed and attacked by the Tips of Swords,

See I got the mic but now I'm Whipped by Chords,

Passing the torch to the one next This Night's Yours,

But you gotta end me so Grip My Throat,

Nah don't worry I won't Give This Nice Throne,

Away to your way you gotta Hit Like Orcs,

Like we're going for the ring and I'm a Wittish High Lord,

Going around the back with a gun that's Two by Four,

Clash in a fight of epic proportions that's TOO DIE FOR.