New Year, new me, fuck that I’m stuck in my ways
I’ve been stubborn for days, maybe months, who knows
Another love interest pops up, ooh yeah, I love her I say
But shoot blanks with cupid’s arrow I’m going astray
It’s floating away, will it come back? Who knows?
I’m too frozen, from head down, emotions are stressed out
My girl wanna blow, told her from the head down
A bit cocky, I spit sloppy, forget hobbies
Bitch I gotta get a job, part time dish washing
In between brakes, scribbling rhymes
I get a vision and ride it like I was feeling a high
The pen is like…well, it’s just a pen, I guess
It only matters in the hand of someone skilled, I guess
I still digress; a song is like a temple of stress
Call me Mardi Gras, gotta get the shit off my chest

Do you wanna take a ride everybody? Hop in -- I’ll chauffeur
They say that it’s a small world,
Seeing all it’s got, sure I gotta say… I am not so sure
But it’s a ride, so buckle up
We’ll fly till the sun is up
But when it lands, you’re on your own, huh
The big city doesn’t seem that big
When you realize you’re alone in a cold, cold world

I’ll be the book worm, taped spectacles
Girls think I’m Doc “Awk”, with eight tentacles
I think – let it go, I’ll hit the limelight
But in my frames I highlight my hindsight
See the kid I used to be, with a boom box
And tube socks, rocking a pair of Shaq’s bumping Tupac
Nothing new rocked, shoes bought from bogo discount
The logo’s chipped out, I choose not
To dwell on that, care-free, the air’s clean
Ten years later, buried in stress, fees
Heading to class, come back
With a ten page thesis on why procrastination is bad
Submit it late with a laugh,
The teacher starting a fight with me
I tell that I’m just Tony Stark with the Irony
Pardon my act, pulling digits off with a blast
I’m dialed in, give ya guy a spin and call it a (w)rap.

I tried to pull a quick one, with the title of my record
Hoping you would get one, reminding you to get it
Every time you hear I said it, call my debut a classic, the title that I’m repping
Is a big one… flow wetter than dos equis, my budget’s equivalent
To a business spending on a coat hanger
So trust, there’s no label, I’m the drink at the party
People know is probably spiked, but I’m buzzed, so go drink it
Fuck it; spitting nonsense, but pay attention
Fitting someone so brokes never making sense then
Got picked last in gym class, the kids laugh
Get mad, pull the tech out and then *blast*
Fill up a clip fast, then shuffle to the next tech n9ne song
Rabble rabble, syllable skill snap!
I’m gibberish peddling something sinister
Reverend go get the minister tell em I’m gonna sin again
Or better administer couple questions or better test him
He said he’s the devil in shepherd skin! Better get him the medicine!
*Christ* It won’t work, he’s gone, so don’t hurt
PSYCH, I strike back with a tong and old fork
Fashion a rope first, climb out the side, gown
Is tight, I slide down, the crowd is quiet, the news people
Are psyched now, I give em each an interview with different interludes
A skit or two on my shit and move up to the front, more still and sure yell
*Everyone my album For Sale is for sale*