what could be better than a kiss?
Is to flex my fist around a mic and do this
Like true bliss, without music
This all feels useless- trees become fruitless
For lifetimes I'd pursue this
Whether stage, cipher circle, or in my room- I'd speak gift
I dreamt weapons would miss
If I identified I was lyricist
Pen to paper has always been my therapist
At the worst of times I'm immersed in rhymes
Nothing that I say is mine.
'Cuz the creator rents space in my mind!
It's simply just euphoria
To tour in the name of her
A verses intent- can be so pure and extend me to be much more
My instant cure for being all alone
I write a verse and (can't) wait to consummate them with the microphone
My mother warned me to leave this life alone
But my love for my wife has grown
Through sound she's shown me worlds within' myself
I make papers spirit thick and not physically thin like its self
In my monologues
I melt men into memories and burn mcs at a ration of
Gain of salaries too
loss of calories
in sweat shop factories
most rappers is hackers - please!!
They styles a little fly but to me they just fleas
Tell them - bring all your writtens
I can style my shit for free
The creator designed me accordingly for battling and recording me
I can give 57 reasons to be Shure of me.

--chorus--
Don't doubt it - we 'bout it and shout it
Though we be silent- music we all about it

I further the art to further my heart
And murder the charts with my dark parts
I speak sparks in gas chambers
Record my soul for strangers
To battle me is allow me to re-arrange ya'
I'm lip service danger wit' compassion like the child in the manger
Angel- to kick drums
Verses- to make gun men lick one
Who's the best mc doesn't matter
Yet men still want to pick one
I'm quick son - mimic none- resist 'em- twist 'em
'til somebody miss 'em
y'all ain't mcs to me to ya' just another mission