Indoor Cat by Bones McQueen

Just did a bunch of yay, im gonna go up on stage

I forget all my lyrics, I think I’ll do OK

IM getting bored of rap, Im sort of over that

Im low-key like pistols hiding in a shoulder strap

Im quickly comin down, and it’s a vicious cycle

suspicious of bitches who quote the bible like it’s their job

it’s like,get a fucking hobby….. fuck


Im feeling all alone, I write a lot of poems

I masturbate often, lofty are all my fucking goals

my music taste is throwing stones not throwing up on friday nights

I stay inside away from the fuss and commotion, writing rhymes

im too old for that, man I’m grown as fuck

I can hold a damn conversation, I just don’t open up


Im keeping to myself, I got too many thoughts,

they’re always swimming, it’s fishy, don’t put me in a box

I’m not a nincoompoop, just need some thinking room

my mind stays flashing like microwaveable instant food

Im off the deep end, don’t give a fuck about a kiddie pool

rapping like I got nothing else to do, man that shit is cool

But not a beatnik, a beat maker, call me that

bones mcqueen rising up above all of these paltry acts

they start to sweat, like they been consuming too many salty snacks

this flow is main course, bruh, toss the fuckin doggy bag

• Hip-Hop/Rap
• West Coast
• independent rap
• underground rap
• Los Angeles