keep it closed, it aint a secret I only wear the cheapest clothes
you creep I grow, take a look at the peep show
that I aint seen before, cause I'm mean and cold
that will leave you froze before you can speak or pose
it must be that I've reached the sole, of a piece of snow
searching for that diamond in the rough, that could make me feel comfortable
like keyshia cole, even though talking to her, keeps a poem
in my heart, under speech inbloom, I sometimes dream of roads
that lead to gold, or a sping of mold, but I don't believe its known
I reap the old, out with the new, to increase the flow