I don't have pity for those who burn their own bridges,
Who sew their own stitches and dig their own ditches to lie in,
and then expect pity like a lion.
Who lost his pride to another male,
because he didn't have pride and he tucked his tail
and ran,
ran like the pussycat he was.
Like when he ran from that fuzzy rat that was but a mouse
Kings of the jungle fear their subjects like a house, that's about to tip-top-topple over into that ditch where you're still waiting for pity.
I'm the new king lion and your just a s****y-kitty itty-bitty wannabe.
Your honestly telling me you pulled the tail out from in between your knees?
While I spin a pale tale and play you like a kitty with some keys?
I'm like a dangling string that you cant help to go after,
but when you get up to me I tend to just go faster.
I'm a flow master,
My goals plastered,
up on the wall.
Nimble like a feline so I can never fall,
and even if I did I would end up on my feet
Your an aristocat, I'm a tomcat on the street.
fighting for scraps to keep my matted self alive,
I had nine lives but I'm only left with five.
I didn't have fancy feast laid out for me in ivory bowls.
I had to hunt down street rats and end their rodent souls.
Then eat their entrails cold,
In a back alley under my favorite dumpster.
I may be a fool but I'm certainly not a chump sir.
I've gotten plumper, since those shilly-shally dilly-dally back alley days.
I thought that was my life but I learned it was a faze,
and now I've worked my way from a back alley cat,
all the way up until the throne is where I sat.