**Freestyle-Not clear**

Show me to your residents and I can be you roommate.
We can lie on the bed with the covers opened wide, checkmate.
You aren't ever going to sleep, isn't no time for counting sheep.
When your little brother running downstairs, I run down into you deep.
They call me an artist because I can rhyme a few lines.
Only real talent that will prevail, is that I will never spit lies.
And never rap about dollars, women and narcotic involved crimes.
Now girl, you say this should be on the upcoming mixtape,
Seems to you that this is a genious scripture.
Well, to be honest you're confused because you aren't getting the picture.
That every word and line, must not always rhyme in the rythm of time.
They told me, DCP records was out of the question.
To good for me and so pure that the label is legit,
The truth of the matter is that they can't handle my shit.
DCP and 123, simple records,
Can't you see, that it's easy as ABC.
oooooooooo shit,
running back to that old Motown,Jackson vibe.
Real sad about Jackson, he had a hell of a ride.
Ripped of his status in life and ripped of his pride,
no wonder the king of pop, is no longer alive.
Disrespected him from London, wako Jacko,
dissed him from California and Texas.
No wonder he was forced to hide his childhood necklace.
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