It makes me great. At night it makes me sentimental to the word called hate. During the day it don’t phase me, not one bit. But when the night come, it all comes down in one hit. One sling. Comin all together like one big thing. Sick of the thoughts. And the battles that I once fought.  Many say they knew me. But they knew not. Also myself, I didn’t know that they had a big plot. Cuz I’m being called monster. Creating large disasters. Menace to society, yeah that’s it. Comin through to come and tell me all stupid bullshit. Like the Mandela Affect. False thought phenomenon. U try to tell your truth and they ask u, “Yo wat they put u on??” Wasn’t put on nothing. Keep all my thoughts to myself. Cuz Imma go fight them battles without help from nobody else.