I’m said to be the pimp’s snitch
My protection always festers your fun
Your paths diverge and you cannot
Uncouple from that same old circle
The circles you scribble on
Every damn straight route you plan
Your directions are always dizzy
I believe it again, the waiver remains
Such confidence’s claws puncture inside my throat
Grow some balls, carry your burdens
You speak of maturity
But that’s what’s needed to fill your hollow voids
A god feels afraid as your ego bloats
Grow some balls, carry your burdens
Learn that glory
Befalls when you behold
What’s in your mirrors’
Surroundings
Is this too much for you to twig?
