No schooling me

Been on the grind for a minute.    
Time flies when you’re in it.      
Used to fly to hit rims,      
now I get rim sitting.      
Sinning in sentences.      
I take my story and cement it,        
expel thoughts demented.      
If I said it then I meant it.      
       
It's been a while now,      
of no good hoodlum-ry.      
Been around the country      
robbing women, jobs and jewellery.      
In different cars,        
watching stars look back at me      
performing tom foolery.      
Still, there is no schooling me.      
I might rob your thoughts        
but never sit in desks to jot,        
id rather be pesky and just rot alone.      
Taking shots to numb        
a demon in my dome.      
Never shot a shot.      
Like blood from stone.      
I'm just not not the type.      
That will,      
does not reside in my bones.      
Well who knows, it might.      
       
Never been, maybe will be.      
I doubt it, but I might kill em      
fore they kill me.        
All depends on the day.      
       
Hear me, feel me.      
I've done a lot of no good,      
jotted in my notebooks.      
Some words released        
to the rotten world,        
some I pocket like    
the watch a thief took.      
Cops watching crooks,        
myself of course included.      
Lots of close calls in hoods,      
don't you ever misconstrue it.      
Friends,        
in heaven or hell.      
Time will tell, I wish I knew it.      
Once my face is blue or blown off,      
regardless of if it's me to do it,      
I'll see the pot and who stews it.      
The one were all stewing in,      
I'll see the war that were losing      
from high above the field,      
some will find the sight confusing.      
Me, I long for the day      
when I'm far above the earth,      
far from hurt, loss and bruising.      
No work, let's play.      
       
Never been a perfect man,      
always lived with crooked plans.      
Still I feel I understand,        
“what's the point of my life?”      
       
My life has never been about      
enriching yours,        
or beating other people        
while I sweat from pores.  
It's about choice in where I do my
teaching, learning, writing, reading
and all of the things that stock my store.      
Going out of business soon,      
why even open the doors?      
Why not aim my car at the wall      
and put my foot to the floor?      
What's the point of it all?      
Enough to make a man      
wet his own drawers.      
       
I plead you stand tall,  
cursed or blessed,      
it's all yours.      
The world that is.      
One life to live, that's it.      
All you have to do        
is give or take, die or live,      
I don't have time to sit by,      
I'm on some higher shit.  
This is what my life's about.    
It's not complicated,      
simply elevated,  
cut the weight      
and you've made it.      
Do what you can, do whatever you'd like.      
Live free in grassy fields,      
or live and die by the knife.      
Do what you feel is right,        
that's all that there is.      
If your gut says it's wrong,      
then it probably is      
no way to live.      
Is that wrong, who am I to say?      
I'll learn when I'm gone.      
For now, me and my ideologies      
will forever remain.      
Upon some I wish pain,      
but I'd cover others from rain.      
I choose who to be.      
like I choose who to save.      
This is the only way there      
is in my brain.