Lyrics
If I could be candid, sometimes I'm insecure
My bad there's more on my agenda
Than securing my bag
Y'all say y'all love the real
But watch pretend in high-res
Different rappers, same
Regurgitated interests, i gag
I'm the future, call me Isaac Asimov
Rap Octavia penning parables of prose
I might be hip-hop's savior
Took a pint of blood and tears
To learn to love my shape
And I'm not trying to modify a
Damn feature but my behavior
From the cradle of the civilized
To a gravе situation
Where a flag more privilеged than
The enslaved of it's nation
I made demos, I rock stages
Now Roc stage demonstrations
With these semi-automatic
Multisyllabic quotations
I'm a far cry from my homestead
I'm a Starseed caught a love bug for these
Prayers like I'm Starski
Now I'm with a crew of
Rhyme slayers making bars bleed
Rivals trying to catch up
But they can't match my brain or car speed
Since the clouds departed
I just speak from my carotid
Pain a distant memory
The image sepia-ed and shrouded
That's from years of light work
That made this medium cathartic
Ride these BPM's like choppers 'til
My grief became melodic
Turned a negative to positive
With these musical deposit's
So y'all can gather my accounts
And make a suitable composite
Of the person I aspire to be
Peaceful and unbothered
With all my doubts and fears six
Feet deep and sleeping under sawdust
Exist out of the box with
The elements and gases
While placing emphasis on
Intelligence and brashness
Devil run amuck while society is cashless
Alter the prescription on the
Frames of their glasses
Quick as a quitter will fold
Some of what glitters is gold
Same story is old
Getting left in the blistering cold
Broken souls get remold
With little arbitration
Fortune favors the bold
As does incarceration
The art of manifestation mastered
By ancient civilizations
Lies deep within the mind's refrigeration
A shift of the eye is ample indication
To re-release a mudslide
Of latent inspiration
The butler did it, end of conversation
In this Information Age
You don't know nathan but hatin'
From the beginning, in it to
Win it and still, he spitting
This fully written isn't a
Product of bullshitting
WRITERS
Assata Perkins, Daniel Thompson, Michael Perretta
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
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