Yeah, I gotta say like a month ago I was talking to fans
And one of them pulled me aside and said
"We never met but I swear that you know who I am
I been through a lot
I don't know how to express it to people
Don't think that I can but I got that Mansion CD on rotation
That's real for me Nate, you do not understand"
It's crazy for me
Kids hit me up, say they slitting they wrists on the daily
This music is more than you think
Don't book me for just entertainment, it's entertaining
Hearing these parents, they telling their kids
My music is violent, you gotta be kidding me
I guess that your definition of violence and mine
Is something that we look at differently
How do you picture me, ah?
Want me to smile, you want me to laugh
You want me to walk in the stage with a smile on my face
When I'm mad and put on a mask, for real though
I mean, what you expect from me?
I'm tryna do this respectfully
They say that life is a race
I knew my problems'll probably catch up eventually
I do my best to be calm
How you gon' write me and tell me you'd slaughter my family?
That's just a glimpse to the stuff that gets sent to me
These are the parts of my life that'll never see, woo
I am aware it's aggressive
I am not here for acceptance
I don't know what you expect here
But what you expect when you walk in a therapy session, huh?

Hurry 100 points consider the speakers in "the raven" and the speaker in "the song of wandering aengus."write two paragraphs to compare and contrast the voice in these two poems. how does the poet give the speaker in each poem a distinctive voice? what effect does this voice have in each poem?

Industrialization in europe changed the way people lived. the urban working class came into being, and with it came the drudgery of work. which two parts of this excerpt from franz kafka's the metamorphosis most closely reflect this impact of industrialization on people's lives? "what's happened to me? " he thought. it wasn't a dream. his room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. a collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table—samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. it showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. "how about if i sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense," he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn't get into that position. however hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. he must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before. "oh, no", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that i've chosen! travelling day in and day out. doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. they can all go away! " he felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder. he slid back into his former position. "getting up early all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. you've got to get enough sleep. other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. for instance, whenever i go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. i ought to just try that with my boss; i'd get kicked out on the spot. but who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. if i didn't have my parents to think about i'd have given in my notice a long time ago, i'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what i think, tell him everything i would, let him know just what i feel."

Answer 7th question pls asap i need