Quick Flow

Quick Flow

A Poem by N_dot_AIMLESS

Everything goes from great to mad, like an episode of breaking bad
I think I caught a case of better face the facts
The pace at which I pace is a race, it's like I'm running in place
I just ate a plate of fate, but all I taste is hash
they say they wana share, but all the wana do is take ya stash
rape your a*s, abate your' free will, and make ya be still
lookin for cats but you forgot about the snake in the grass
I take 3 pills, for each one of my 33 ill's, the first 30 are wordy
The last 69 are overkill, my doc has got a quota to fill
Cruella De Ville in a lab coat, says he got a boat to build
He needs my bones for the frame, my skin for the sail
Now we're takin on water, get a bucket to bail
This is colorado style, never predicted or stale
You could be on a warm picnic and get hit by hail
I died every week like kenny till I sipped the grail
Now I'm feeling pretty healthy like a grip of kale
And the lizards try'n kill me but to no avail
My soul is black as coal although my flow is pale
You created your own coffin, I'm just the hammer and nail

© 2015 N_dot_AIMLESS

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Added on February 26, 2015
Last Updated on March 1, 2015



Suburbia, CO

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