The is not the belly on tv
this is the belly of the beasta hungers feastthe world is coldain't no hug going to warm your souldon't nobody care where you godont nobody share what they don't owetimes are rudewhen you are knocked downor knockedoutyou will not be left with excuse me rulesThat is not the lay of the landthere's no free runyou have to pay to playor just get passedby the upper classsince your failed attentionmade it easy for them to give them lynchingsto steal your rightful placeBrand your inventionsmaybe you should've made sure you were lacedbefore you entered the this gameand tripped on your faceyou can hide your arms, legs and feetbut can't hide your facesuch a rich palettefor your shameful tasteyou third string, second class, left wingshould've married a winnerto get that ringuse that help to gold plate that beltsee you worked hard to get left in the yardFought great to sweat that laketrained good to make that weightjust to earn that feeling you just can't shakeyour eyes wide shutdead man standing in placeThis is not your interventionIT'S YOUR WAKE!Good Morning