Turn me up some X3
Got a half a mind to burn me some up
My n***as, got me feeling like, dumbing it down just may be worth better living/but how can the kid afford to when every verse ever written/was a reflection of self and a purpose greater than me? there's no cheques on the shelf,and the work is rated to be/
A tool for the greater good and you selling hope to the people/ with music that shedded light where i dwell and spoke to evils that, we battling in this cold earth/
Satan asking me how much my soul's worth When all I got is, empty pockets and a facebook in box/full of praise from kids who feel the grace when him rocks/and inspired with great faith to embrace the grim blocks/from which they grew/and turn their fate to sling shots/
Shooting for the stars/
They routing for the god/
And I'm routing for them back so they know that losing's for the heart/
See the guts and the glory and victory shall come with a story that history remembers as a warriors impossible gory, Tale! of shear heart and perseverance!
That's why I treat every verse like shear art and
First appearance!
I flow to show that fear's not the worst of bearings!
I know i glow I'm here start the burst of cheering!
What I write became something like a Garvey speech!
Man my mic game savage but I hardly speak/
Yeah I write flames! baddest raps to body beats/and my stripe game madagascar marty deep/
Earned it all never demanded respect/
I know God had a greater motive when he handed us d**h/
You all about the shine and the glow and the glam and the press?
I more about defining the soul of the man in the flesh/
My manner reflects, a knowing of how my grandma would stress/that I should live a purposeful life with my manners in check!
I'm far from a saint, i just painted a portrait/with words and chose to be uplifting rather than tainted or thoughtless/
Hook! 1
And homey I ain't slept in days, thinking how mama got us out from where the weapons sprayed, put us in the burbs with her little cheques and gave, me every opportunity to do my best and prayed
Verse 2
I put the pen to the pad, page tends to cringe a little bit/uncomfortable with how I start it so it starts to fiddle with/ the lines on it's surface like it's asking what the purpose is, words looking at me like, how you expect us to work with this? My thoughts are just lazy lately maybe it's the pa**ion/ I feel like I'm losing it, the craziest of actions/cause this sh*t found me, not the other way around/ and I'm chilling , enjoying watching my brothers play around/like f*ck it all, rap ain't done sh*t for me lately/the sentences are freaking out, asking if I'm crazy, saying wait untill the bars hear what you talking, so I'm screaming at the bars like "must you often, snatch beats, k** verses, be the dopest, murder tracks? and I ain't even gonna carry on with what you further lack" / so they screaming back like do something about it then/ look what happened last time you tried to empower them/ they ain't f*cken listen what you missing is the vision, see, everybody can rap, what you doing differently? The paragraphs are chilling there, looking at me pitiful/ on some damn dude if we could we would spit at you, maybe it's not you, maybe it's the politics/ maybe you ain't meant to be here, baby just acknowledge it/it's crazy maybe I've just grown to hate what the page reflects/ when I'm through scripting, maybe it's the days of stress/ cause I just performed and I'm searching through my pockets like, sh**! nothing! And didn't I just rock this mic? And weren't they charging at the door? Wasn't the crowd marching back for more? F*ck this I'm through with this, why do I still do this sh*t? I get drunk and high with my closest friends and cutest chicks, 'til my n***a throws on diamonds in my eyes/ and I'm sitting there high watching him rhyming every line/
Hook 2
And homey we ain't slept in days/
Wasting the little that we have from these cheques and pay/
On d** and alcohol and all the rest in ways/ that mama wouldn't proud of but none the less I blaze!