Untitled Song

I want to battle but it leaves my best bars wasted

You want to battle mashing on the space bar wasted

You will always have the Buzz of Aldrin, just face it

I will always be Neil, my arms strong you're cut basic

Seems as though your self esteem dream cut short at fourteen

Fiends already know poor wealth seems enough, not for me

Im so acidic im pHresh always on number one

Burning cynics rhyme theshold over encumbered some

Your "gram" needs a clinic should have smothered your mother

and her son

Mostly sputtering cluttered cupboards ungoverned

cancer won

Your rage aged my brain by at least seven thousand days

quit rap i will do

More decay in vain to say money make them all wet

and moldy see what a mildew