Slung off my shoulder is the burden the world imposed
Not a devil in disguise, just a jester in different clothes
The epitome of the median, not "pimpin" with the "hoes"
Just a pauper, took an offer; that wasn't what I chose
Not striving for recognition, simply resisting collision with friction
Classified as nuclear emissions every time I spit my writtens
Wishing for serenity, but Given promises fictitious
The Rights of Miranda have become propaganda and it's turned me carnivicious