Y I No Have Deal!?

Well here I go again, back to the scribblin', speaking from another me, letting all my demons win. People act like I'm so wrong when I'm faking a smile, when it's the only way I know how to keep from dying right now. And man, holy cow, don't ever let me have a real melt down, on Facebook, because I'll post pics of me blowing my brains out. And my Tumblr queue is filled with five years worth of content, and it post to my Twitter, so it wont look like I'm dead yet. Lol, winky smiley face, from beyond the grave, and I hope you're all entertained by the way that I've behaved. Because while I may be blessed, or talented at best, the passion in my heart doesn't print me out a check. So, while I break my neck and I struggle for meals, fake rappers are saying things but haven't done them for real. And yes, I respect the shooter, not the one survived and not thanking God for the fact they're alive. Gangsta is not a state of mind, it's a state of being, and it doesn't make you gangsta just because you're good at bleeding. This is the realest shit I ever wrote, within the last three to six minutes, and I didn't even think of this; 420 did it.