Chomp, chomp, bite, bite, swallow this,
little kid with a flow that just won’t fit
Open wide, take a gulp, inhale, exhale,
Try your ears if you really don’t feel well

I’ve been known to be taken a little ill

In my sickness I’ve gained the written details
Supposed to flow to the beat for the wholesale
But I say oh well, mic me, I do swell

Up like a weather balloon, so tell ‘em all soon,
If you see me flying high, I developed some zoom

To the moon and back, I backpack some niño status
Like my Puerto Rican fitted cap

And that’s that, clear throat, back on track
Call it rap? All I really know is words,
But I string them to the third, find a beat to make it work,
Is this writing just absurd?

If I change one word, does it change one style?
If I call myself niño, will I be a child?
Or a man to the thousands?

Two changes one, equates massive
And the dividends are crowded

But I’m a loud kid,
slightly bashful, Hard to hear cause the cavities are a mouthful
So my mouth is doubtful, gummy sound check
Throat carved, lips wet, life’s too sweet so I ate it

And I aided it, added and subtracted it, do the math
to locate the places where I savor it,
but sometimes I fall through the cracks just to reach the pit
made a deal with my ladder to escape it

So I’m on my third assembly line,
Fixing up the parts, renovating, redefining mine

And I ain’t got time, ask mi abuelo,
We all lose things after birth says hello

And goodbye,
my life’s all threes,
so give me fives
Ain’t making sixteens
but I multiple rhymes
The math of time
has been silently written on my mind

Cause I’m living nineteen and my future’s real young

I’m growing up fast but my path’s been sung
Yet the beat’s not done, premonition in tongues,
Just remembered I was feeding my son!

Knock, knock deja-vu in the first verse,
found my child eating chomp chomp after his birth

I’m a man already, lost the passion of time,
Fell ill, never recorded rhymes

Soon they’ll call me abuelo,
birth says goodbye, death says hello
Handing me a halo, where did the flame go?
Thought I was fire but I’m 45 years old…

Time is birth, life, death threefold,
lost track, can’t go back, no restart that I know.
Oh no, say peace to my modern day flow