Paper Filled

My paper at first it’s all white
Then I crowd it with what I feel inside all night
I don’t know if it’s a rap song or a theme
Is it how I express myself or plan out my next scheme
Like that target looking at the barrel of my 9 with the beam
Is it how I build a plan or organize my team
Like when you hold your gun on the inside it holds a scream
On the inside of me it holds lost hopes and dreams
Are they really lost or am I tryna be someone I’m not
To prove the definition of a boss
In the end I know it’s wrong and I have to pay the cost
Do the time and take my loss
Take my time to think
Wash my thoughts like my hands in a sink.