Kepp working, stay on my grind. God, school and moneys only on my mind. Lovely women happen to come by and that's fine. Touch my paper and I will decline.
Stress build, heavy weight on my mind. Trying to walk with god and take life one day at a time. People take what they want and ask for more. I don't hustle because I am poor (I'm not), its in my blood (a clot).
Had my hustle ever reached my core, it would attack me and stop my beat. Soul song silenced for eternity for desiring to achieve greatness. Such a paradoxacal oximoron drifts throughout my body keeping me alive unbeknownced to my concienceness.
My kryptonite is infact what makes me a super solider. For ever I will fight waging a mental spiritual war. I pull the trigger at whatever stands in my way and eliminate the prey for I am the predator. In future roles will switch and I will hear the heavenly bell ring, such a divine pitch.
So for no I fight and fight I will. Untill the kryptonite reached my heart and it attacks me. My internal double edge sword. Hustle.