Untitled Song

forget what it is, I know this ain't how to live but sinnins the only way I know how to live, Not a fuckin game, that I won't come to slayin, any muthafucka that wants some better come an bring it, no bullshit, no mo fuckin singin, sick of these Weak rhymes stinkin up our city................ weak fuckin punks diggin dirt in my turf this whole earth is my birth, to spread words like a curse, spit a verse with a thirst so immersed in who's worst , McFadden or Zee, young one old one, philly fake or whoever the fuck keeps makin where we live look weak, let me speak, a few words an ill let y'all make some wack ass response an sound cheap,........I'm a little late, my mistake, but I was to busy bein a real artist than a fake, masterin craft, pick in a fate, willing to stay only if I'm fillin the way, drillin my brain till I'm skill at a say, every word in my vain an rhyme that I'll slay, I'm takin all names an I'm makin a name in a game so erased,