What?

Pacing, mind racing, erasing the hatred, complacent you'll find.

My time, my grind, my shine, my kine, the kind to blow like a land mine.

I've got more important things to do than to be chasin some dime.

Wastin my life, houndin for some pussy, that will never be mine.

Directing the masses, they see through my glasses and observe it's half full.

Inspecting the spectacle, I'm just chillin hangin like a testicle.