Views


What’s a man got to do
To be done with your poo
Should I lick on your shoe
And make sure it’s all new

I must fight for my meal
It’s a truth too damn real
When I don’t get to feel
How you stab with a heel

Don’t you know I feel sick
From a choice I must pick
For a chance on the peak
That will show who is weak

Once I pay off my dues
Go and talk on the news
But I won’t be your muse
Who will die for your views.

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