Maybe I'm justa bad girl?

Just woken up from a bizarre dream. He had an enormous silhouette clad in green, with omnipresent frenzy smile never wearing off. 'twas almost scientifically proved, M-geeks are believed to be vulnerable to trick 'em into swizzing; a man who resembled a cartoon character deadening his derisive grim told me " even though someone says, tries to blur you in brain box, don't listen to him. As you are so pretty, unearthly dreamlike, that those exceptional mockings are solely teasers, triggers indeed. Those lads who feel fearful about themselves do exactly such conjuring tricks." Here, the last fixed phrase was extraordinarily appropriate as he was an ilk of magician [ow, how the world blings] not to mention, conjurer one.

The mere fact [that] sb's taken up studies doesn't sadly necessarily n crystal-clearly mean, nor indicate they'll graduate. The spell is quite long with the decision long-lasting which will probably pay off, if so, in the far-flung future. I feel lost somehow in this hurly-burly. Not confident as I used to be for a long time. Can't catch anybody's grasp, as they seem to be petrified, yet envying me to some, or great extent. A quite challenging task to find out the why. They all hold their precious belongings, sprouting study ladders, are singles, struggle hard to catch up on with the latest... but the last, yet remaining the unrecognisable part of the grey not even charcoal washed out blur. Tend to commence trend setting, being the first? After years of painstaking attempts, all they've attained is yet the very last position "dressed up like for a dog's dinner". I have the ringside seat on the situation, am the first to know additionally in the front row. Am able to suppress, ow I beg your pardon, you've already managed costing a slogging the guts out to unveil above word's meaning; then, can refrain myself from gushing over mine career path which has clearly menacing tendency [not Militant one] to thrive n lead the field with first class honours. Eventually came up to a conclusion, that those who one's in their corner are the ones with the same "membership" address as you. Recently have I found an astonishing state of matter-getting on well with the equal sex is a lot more harder than with the easy-peasy opposite one. Not to mention the fact, breaking new ground is even tougher. Am too good to be true. Even in your wildest have you dreamt, someone of this stamp will have stood on your way through destroying the pitiful image just in the making, nipping in the bud, of yours. FM lyrics have ever been more appropriate. They embody what happens to me. Lucky I listen to such commensurate songs? You can try but you'll never understand. This is something you will never understand. Just let off my chest what is hidden in the bowels of the beast. You struggling in vain to attach, glue some not even mediocritily connected verses. And there is violence in my heart. Forcibly converting 'em into sth from your misery script, conveying like they're a genuine scrap of your contraband reproduction of sth what was supposed to claim as a soul.

So you pick up a pen and write yourself a new identity But mentally you don't have the hip hop energy With a tendency to make up stories

At the same time loosing somewhere, abandoning the last bastion of real element of the repercussions that remained intact. There're bullet holes where my compassion used to be. Reminiscences which no one'd have ever guessed belonged to the picture they see looking at you.

You can't tempt me with rhymes that are empty Rapping to a beat doesn't make you an MC With your lack of skill and facility You're killing me And a DJ in the group just for credibility I heard that some of you are getting help with your rhymes You're not an emcee if someone else writes your lines