Untitled and Freestyled

You're down with all the latest fuckin' trends,
but you shoulda known it'd hit you in the end,
and how you relate to your skank ass friends
and the fake ass men, where you been,
and distance you from your very kin,
fuck, I'm not the first to curse so much,
there's worse and you're just outta touch,
I can't say it, but I guess you can do it, literally,
and you shoulda knew it woulda come back around
when they're no longer around, your pride can't be found
and it leaves you beat and sobbin' on the ground,
and no matter what you think you found
you just can't bring yourself to find the help
that you clearly need, caught up in your greed
and when you stop to breathe and recollect
you realize that no one sees you with respect,
you're a fuckin' wreck and you know what's next,
even when you're at your best you're the worst,
everyone's dispersed and you can't fill your thirst
of temporary pleasure, of which there's no measure
or rhythm or rhyme and I think you know it's time
to realize what's mine is not yours, less is more,
and your empty fuckin' core makes you a fuckin' bore,
you're practically plastic with your trivial tricks,
the fuckin' rude attitude, and I'm completely sick,
your heart's cold and that shit gets so old so quick,
despite what you're told, or what they may say,
and there will come a day when you look back and pray
that your life wasn't a waste, and you'll be faced
with the question of your worth, the justice in your birth,
but you won't have a fuckin' clue, because all you ever knew
was when and where, but never who, and no one knew you,
and the worst comes when you're hollow, and who to follow,
and when you come to find that there's no tomorrow,
your shallow rage is the fuckin' best stage of your day,
I'm worn from your clichés and games you love to play,
you're nothin' new, but tomorrow's just another day,
well, for me, not you, 'cause bitch, you're through.