A semi-fictional account of the greatest hip-hop record ever created. |
How do you unpeel the onion? Where do I start, and where do you begin? I just wanted to be something; I have no control over where you'll take what you knew of me. This is my summer, after all, not yours. My mark to make. My person to reclaim...or destinate. I don't have a lot of choices. I'm taking them all. If you say I can't be had because you're not interested, that's all the better. F*** you. I'm throwing myself out and around 'cuz I don't know any better anyway. There are things I want, and there are things that make me happy, and I don't have to differentiate. I'm still a g**d*** kid, really...and don't waste your time trying to tell me to enjoy my life while the other side of your mouth means business. I hear a lot of words, but I don't know how to translate that. I'll just do what comes naturally. Instinct. Eat, sleep, and hormones. I can play ball, and I will...or at least I'll figure it out. Everything's eventually, right? "Eventually". Hopefully. Maybe. Someday. Like me. Like you. And all I know is we gotta start somewhere. Even if I don't like where you started off with me or if I agree with it. This is where I'm starting...here and now. I know what I like. I know what I want. I didn't ask for an invite... Lyrics. Word Count: 237. |