My Rap Skills Censored For WP

You slam-dunk me
'Cus I got this mother mucking around waiting for rhymes to grind
She gave me no vision
It was like being blind
As I played hooky in college
Provost made it bondage
Less than average, more a bore
So lame, I couldn't score

My fingers fidget
My quill raps
Gives me crap
A slap
Of
Ink
To pat
On
Paper mat.
I became hell's child
Even tho they raised me nice
I can get easily riled
Let me show ya how I grin, smile
I go by the meter
When lines are drawn
The bottom line
Is when I lose my mind
If you think poetry is stuffy
Then you ain't seen a tough cookie.