Optimist, miss you know what I’m thinking
The bottle is half full until I drink it
Optimist, miss you know what I’m thinking
But A word is just a thought until I ink it

Can’t you see that I’m already rich
I’m trying to get richer than rich You rickety bitch
Why don’t you unzip and lickety lick  Then lickety split
No trickery, just giggity giggity giggity goo
Watching a Spiderman flick
Puffing on Spiderman‘s chick
I am a writer, where is my lighter, man quick
Whatever it is, I was born and raised to handle that
Since grandpa was riding on a camels back
Because when I hit the stage I got the rage like it’s no other
But in the streets I’m low-key like im Thor’s brother
I got in a fight with Chuck Norris, it was a tie 
Murder the verses and leave the cord is to the side
So am I just crazy insane or making my point
When I get stressed I Jamaican my joint
But why stop when I’m hot like a chai pot
Are you old
Van Dam.
What the fuck is you a time Cop

You’re the worst, I’m is the antonym
When I’m gone they’re going to feel me like a phantom limb
I’m going and going and going. 
I should clone my status
Into places at once like it’s quantum mechanics 

Silly and Dilly Dallying
He ain’t really rallying
He aint able to hold that course
Homie, he is a halfling.
It’s baffling that he is dabbling in rapping. 
But my grandfather used to write a full-size horse

I told you, if I feel a song I’m a killa song
Smok-a...killer bong in my billabong
Soldier...rap all day like. It’s a marathon ( Doja).
The King has returned, call me Aragorn

Someday I’ll punch out, fat chance and not now 
Just throw on the suit and like Batman it’s Ka-Pow.
Ba Blaam. Whizaam. Watchout. 
Rambo, endless ammo to the whiplash like its mike tysons punch out 

Why the fuck did I ever go to school, I should’ve dropped out
Ready and steady and heady since the day I popped out.
Like “hi mom”
Now I’m rocking and rolling, and growing and holding,
I’m Golden Like Stephani with her top down
No doubt, I could never hold out
Give you everything until I’m sold out baby
Mr. Clark lady.
You could lean on me
Kilmer and Bobby D.,
I got the heat on me For real,

Out run a cheetah
Out bench Schwarzenegger when he is in his prime and on the needle
I’ve only got 10 blunts left to blaze
I’m set for days
Let’s begin the escapades