Exile - The Words lyrics

[Emanon] Call me the rapscallion A rogue rhyme sayer single-handed battalion Thoroughbred pedigree like black stallion The pale horse coudn't come close to pose a challenge And rappers pale in comparision to my styling I'm dropping knowledge while they narrow minds popping violence I listen for truth, all I hear is a calm silence I'm looking for proof, all I see is my mom's smiling Beaming proud cause I stopped buggin' and wilding Every man is an island - - I stand alone like the cheese Everyman is connected separated by six degrees Walk the path of enlightenment down the road on we ease By inches the gaps squeeze approching our destinies Breathe out in a cycle that we share with the trees And sway aimless like branch catch the rhythm of breeze Always going but never knowing where fate may lead Listen to my elders remember to take they head Even when you smile meanwhile somebody else bleeds And rose gardens get infected by weeds.. Never admire desires over necessities I take time, to balance out all of my wants and needs Keeping time, I tap my left hand on my knee And with my right I write a style that's free.. [Hook - repeat 2X] Running away from yesterday Time is pa**ing and I can not stay Bless the children is what I say I write the words and give them away [Emanon] I was borned educated, I escaled to a Style that's elevated. Above the average s**as who never made it - still trying to show out But never paraded, it's kind of faded The way they stay jaded - from really knowing what's goin' on It's like they stuck up upon the same song I aim strong, above my goals because I know That gravity is pulling me back down on the floor So I prepare my presentation just before I deliver Pull another verbal arrow up out of my quiver Yo, I'm a precious piece of the history People are still trying to figure out the mystery Ancient like the streets of Sicily I got the itch to be a high speed pitch fastball swing and a miss Blacker than the abyss, and good for ya like a fat bowl of grits I commandeer the mic and I spits Shooting verbal knowledge at little kids I use my voice box instead of boxing with fists But square up on a square when I'm pissed - So where's the list The cla** is in session but weak n***as is dismissed Go on back to the lab and practice [Hook] [Aloe Blacc - to fade] Counting my blessings on the lessons that I've been streesing Louging with essence guessing I've chosen the right profession Get up and motivate to the spot and I'm rolling late But anyway that's how we play out in the golden state Big up my man he shakes my hand I pat him on the back The salutation met with traditional wise crack After the laughts we get to business for the afternoon Reach in my bag and grab the CD packed full of tunes Turn up the ba** boost so we could feel the subs boom Walls shaking feel like the earthquaking in the room Make a selection choose the dopest of the dopest For the rhymes session beats got to keep lyrics in focus And vice versa, creating aural inertia Moving forces with a purpose like fluid sounds to immerse ya