I was probably nervous, consciously hurting An itch within of a wannabe wordsmith Taking the time to properly word it Rhymes placed in succession, it was obviously working Seeing rappers contesting, it was honestly perfect Spitting and wildin, freestyling thoughtlessly earnest I wanted to do it, to prove it, I gotta be murkin’ The estimate of losing intense had me nauseously swerving Yet, I felt exempt from this, I wanted the action sentences like a predicate Rapping is what kept me from a death wish list My mom wasn’t happy about the influences Knew she couldn’t do shit when the music hitted Writing became a passion, I felt refreshed with it 50 Cent on TV and Eminem CDs, Cam’ron shirts and Lil Uzi necklaces What sense to me meant irreverent MCs, damn them first and rudely wreck them in Juice on the Tube effortlessly letting it Expertly crafted shit, it became a dream I believe, it seems, that I’m forever pretending it’s what I can be And if you don’t believe in me, see the fatalities I’m just in a scene, but I don’t know what’s reality