Someplace sulking silently... Finally freeing to where he's free. Ain't no place he rather be... Realizing rumors ain't reality. Glock .40 stuffed in his Armani's, And there's a tommy in his Tommy. He'll figure away to pop out, With it in his Hilfiger. He's on that all black shit, His nails match his lips. Choker around his neck, And he gets no respect. Let's call him Tyler... Creator of a lot of disturbances He can clear a classroom, In an one instance. But Tyler's not strapped up, To shoot up the school. He's just upset, About one single fool. His neighborhood bully, Let's call her sumn ghetto. Ghetto like Kiesha, I guess Quinnesha. She liked doing hoodrat shit, With her hoodrat friends. Tyler was a victim to this, So he stole his dad's hollow ends. He walked into the class, Moving his arms into his bag. See he sits way in the back, Isolated from the class. Then came along Quinnesha, Yapping away at the mouth. He did his best to ignore her, But damn was she persistent. He eyed her angrily, She looked down on him menacingly. "How long will you torment me," He asked feeling completely helpless. She laughed and spat on him, It soaked into his ripped denim. "That's it, you're dead bitch," He exclaimed with venom. But before he could reach, She started wailing on his ass. And that fateful day, Made him never return to class...