The little story with the case of many cartwheels, at the end of this, you will just know how my heart feels, clever I could call your steps but better if I told you hurtle, never took a while to introduce you to my social circle, I spoke to Urkel, with visions of The Color Purple, supervision of your own revisions can be hurtful, like I'm in the desert crying bout a raging waterfall, see my protocols stalled within the essence of my calls, so will y'all play ball when the goal falls, you can be short with your game tall, the fame falls when you take a look at the same closer, day by day you feel that way, changing your composure, with closures, you would think it's over, claiming that you're sober, a proven tactic, graphic, causing havoc, so I take it from exposure, but I highlight it, caring bout the need of being careful, staring at the rarest sense of fairness with despair full, the pull I've annulled turns to push down the stairwell, hi to the basement barrel, bye from the farewell, swears I beared embarrassed me, ask me if I fared well, the contradictions viciousness is one that only pairs hell, never with the heavens but these seven days I conflicted, talented at heart, torn apart, I was CRYPTIC GIFTED, proving why I shifted, but had lifted, you could call it mystic, scripted, though its unpredicted, this is how I lived it, with MY GIVINGS CONTRADICTED, pick it but would kick it, a ticket to be soon evicted.