~Hard Pass~ I want to be a nicer guy but I don't got a lot of trust so often times I speak my mind with nothing but disgust there's a ton of stuff in life that's nice and worthy celebrating but the world is also stuffed with motherfuckers elevating crud above the mud to levels of utter devastation so I stay focused on the scrubs trying to keep some hell at bay when society's seems psyched to let them rise like levitation some might surmise I've subscribed to narcotic kinds of crime cause I'm a dope dealer but only with the rhymes my coke only the type that comes in liters drama llamas exist within all tropes though I've still got a lot more in common with common folk than I'll probably ever honestly have with the rich since I've never really endeavored to have a pimp and I'm not so desperate for treasure that I'd be willing to sit in the stirrups sipping syrup to endorse a horse (whore's) checks though you could say I'm bridled since I'm always chomping at the bit unwavering with the labor of phasing out all the fakers though it sounds kind of ironic to say this I'm also unbridled with my statements sardonic phonics laced with traces of tectonics shaking baseless foundations with no relent it's growing less worthwhile to condone nonsense I'd be happy to get paid for this outspoken poetry stuff enough to maybe cover my rent but only as long as the wages I gained didn't smother my independence with requests for junk I don't consent cause unlike when I'm getting laid this time I'm not hyped to be riding bitch stuck living in the middle while the driver flips the whip doing triple the limit ripping the wheel with a twist like it's a suicidal recital and he doesn't give a shit only idle with his passengers lives so let's change lanes in what we're naming it a bit plain genocidal is how we ought to be defining this like a humble brag it's a contradiction when they all claim facts from works of fiction fake captions accrued in vain attempts to add satisfaction the mumbling fad's attraction is a lopsided sum like an imbalanced fraction but it's positive you've got to do the math otherwise you're just subtracting placated by reactions that aren't even real just a bunch spasms and contractions detracting from what's ideal likes and views cued to hit you with that dopamine feel so you think you're dope and you've made a good deal just a clone in the scope of hopeless appeal but now you're addicted and fiending for a fix artists lacking in heart just trying to get rich with the same lame cards and talentless tricks about as smart as a shart it's just half assed shit every time they bark remarks about a bad ass bitch they're leaning too hard on crass nieches it's freaking unbelievable crashing a parked car seems pretty inconceivable yet there they are somehow thinking that they're meaningful bending bars into something so distorted they're bound to be deported by every real artist in the scene when we get to recording running circles around their lines a commercial no sign never been a fan of labels I'm a fucking individual got a barcode tatted on my wrist as satirical sarcasm so scanning me just rings up as only this one exists they don't know my true value but they're starting to get a hunch that it amounts to a whole fucking bunch so my inbox is clogged voice-mail always maxed my voice has been logged revoking wack choices that should probably be flogged for invoking my wrath you can keep your ads I'm not a fan of spam so I throw them in the trash can't recycle viral ham though I'm often known to laugh at shrill dealt offers to help fill my coffers with blatant constipated gas thanks but no thanks I'll take a hard pass. ~Justin Farrow (Jduhb)