Work with ya hands. Work like a man. Turn the dirt into plans into purpose into past. If the passion I have isn't working, the matches will burn 'em. It don't have to be permanent. I learned a bit from the shit that I been through. It really all depends on ya mood. So, check it, everything's cool. My whole life falls apart on the regular, true. But I'm getting used to being Young Veteran Loosh. Living through hard times with a war grind and a scarred mind. You call it art? Fine. I just like to carve rhymes into this arm of mine. Oh my god, that's martyr signs. Hold up - Biz Markie Time - that's how you keep it lighthearted. Been living in the darkness, but I don't like hardship. Schizophrenic Shark Pit. Vicious with the bark. Rip ribbons outta hearts when I get a scent of scarlet. There's blood in the water and Luck is on it. That's all I ever wanted. This hunger makes me nauseous. I'm come to take some hostages. Suffocate and bond with them. And ill never tell the cops where the bomb's hidden. Far Beyond Driven. Cuz if I stop riffing ill die fast like Dimebag when the shots hit him. Walking contradiction on a mission to live like a rockstar and die like a henchman. Life is a death wish. Ride 'til you get sick. Fly if you get wings or hide when the mess hits. Suicide is expected. But if you're destined for better things, why take an exit? The grind I apply will make your head spin. The pride was expensive. The mind, unrelenting. The pressure I lift up builds the potential to kill the defenses. The Kid gets ill from depression. Worst first impression unintended. But still feel the Will to kill; learning from my lessons. The hurt I been left with burns so impressive. I guess I deserve those friendships. Overextended and hoping for the best when a mess was all that was intended. I'm pulling all investments and looking for the next big, quick money fix cuz everybody love me when I'm Rich.