And a poetry book can be what you want
You’re the king of the castle
You’re the litter of the runt
Smoke blunts and be cigar
Inhale sarcasm and breathe out tar
Be the noxious fumes of a diesel car
Get high on rhyme and style
Substance can sit second for a while
Meaning can be made out of bile
Digest all that and you’ll soon be sick
Think on it all, just be quick
There’s nothing here except what sticks
The first round of throws is all that clicks
different faces 