Please get off my back,

because my legs are beginning to give;

Don't punish me for the way I choose to live.

No, you're not cool for wearin a fake grill.

No sir, you aren't tight for your overrated basketball skillz.

No way, I'll give you props for starting a fight over a chicken sandwich.

No chance, my car will stop for your blinging wristband which,

for some reason you call a watch,

when you can't read time and instead you grab your crotch,

and ramble random rap songs,

by a foolish poet long gone to the other side;

the bottom of a downhill slide.

Filled with stories that no one told.

Tracks that never sold.

Ideas that to soon grew old.

Will never smoke a joint,

Never start a beef,

and never ever for your sake turn over a new leaf.

So, please get off my back, my legs can take no more,

my body refuses to be this sore.

I'll always ignore you, because I aim for something more.