I rap and I hit the ceiling
Get a feeling
Like I'm stealing
Identities if the competition
Don't think its just superstition
Broken wings
Fix em is the mission
So everyday I'm writin'
Making nuclear fission
Sick of the treason
It's clearly the season
People hurt for no reason
Helpless people
Don't know who to believe in
Real men fightin' for family
And until they get justice they ain't leavin'
To the selfish
Thanks for nothin'
All the oppression you gave me
Helped me come from something
Say what you wanna say
Stop makin' a**umptions
Love ain't love i you ain't feelin'
And if you ain't feelin' it means your numb
If your numb hit ya head on the ceiling to see if ya feel it
But that would be dumb
So now the answer is clear to me
You hearin' me?
I'm just as confused as you are
So stop fearin' me
Suppose you
Were forced to commit crime
But people expose you
They oppose you
Accuse you of doin' things you ain't supposed to
It's confidence you're not even close to
And now you're hiding from anyone that knows you
It seems every things outta reach
Outta sight
I don't mean to preach
But we're outta light
Broken feet
No energy to fight
And until you overcome fears
You will always miss your flight
Broken wings
Seat belts tight
The wind whips and you crash
Into a place of night
Lookin' out the window
What am I doin'
Slowin' down a little
I'm not super human
Not matter were I'm goin' or sittin'
Still no way of showin'
That even the happiest people have problems within'
They say the days is yours
But what if you share it
Sometimes when we see the light of day
We can't even bear it
I have a problem here and there
And your right i'll wear it
When people cry for help
Its usually only a scream
When I wake up
Things are never as they seem
Walkin' around with this watch around my wrist
This things must not tell time
Because there's still things I missed
People tryin' to give hands
But all I see is fists
I wish I could just stand up and start to spit
But people keep catching me at the wrong time
When ever I feel like this is it
Back in second grade
I accidentally gave a boy stitches
I still remember his name
When I remember I get the itches
I accidentally threw him into a table
Played him like Atari
If I seen him today
You bet I would say sorry
As I'm writing
I notice its polluted
But I would like to give thanks
To the lives we saluted
There's a story
Of one who fell short
But his presence known
And built a metaphoric fort
That's my story
And its full of pages
Of wanting to go on tour
And fill up some stages
You see I write dreams
So they don't end up in cages