As I look through the rally of the meadow of fans
I take a look at the crowd and realize a man
He's ballin'
I'm fallin'
He's keepin' me at bay
I'm callin' he's stallin'
But he's here today
I'm pagin'
He's cajun
I like 'em that way
He's gamin'
I'm sayin'
He's aimin' his dart
To send the final blow right through my heart
He's wack and he's mackin'
Some heffa in the crowd
She's laughin'
I'm cryin'
As my rhymes drop down
To a note so serious
So blue, so real
I can't conceal
Or much less feel
The mic in my hand
Through my fingers like sand
Like Forest Gump I just ran and ran
But West said it best in his piece:
If ya'll fresh to death, then I'm deceased.