The problem is me, I lack authenticity
I lack the words, I lack the flow, I lack knowing so and so
I think I can write, but just hide from the fight
I hate confrontation, I hate to discuss
don’t have the words the create more than a fuss
I’m not cool like I claim, my words all seem lame

I am lonely, I am whiney
say I’m better than the rest
but I’m small, I am tiny
and done trying my best
lazy like apes,
hectic like birds
not one of the babes
and way into shirts
Speak with an accent and I’ll lose my shit
If you’ve written one story, we’re the perfect fit

I’m too tough
I’m too rough
I’m too buff
I’m too much
I’m not funny
too flakey
not sunny
too fakey
Too boyish
too Dutch
not toyish
no catch

And I keep dressing up in clothes that don’t fit
too much of a pup, to know how to sit
Too dumb to know how to keep shut
No one will show, so I’ll stay in this rut

But besides all the reasons
that say I should so
I don’t hate myself
and I do like my flow
I’m not better nor bitter
don’t really care
if my style doesn’t fit her
that she don’t like my flair
I just own up to the shit
that’s imperfect ‘bout me
On the top I’ll just spit when
I’ll walk oh so freely
Not chained downd through judgement
cause I am the judge
visit with payment
the hammer I clutch

I am fine being rotten
while able to breathe
your make-up should soften
your face’s screaming please
I am fine being fine
so I stop to deceive
it is my time to shine
don’t care if you’ll leave