Man I really got to kick it. I got to kick that feeling ain’t because of no dealing, I don’t take drugs and I feel myself healing. The songs on the radio rarely lively up myself, all they do is rise up in wealth. It makes me wonder what they are worth, with all these radio waves bouncing around Earth. You ever ask yourself, is there a more beautiful word I would like to call our iron-rock. Or does the short 5 letter sound get her all the fucking she needs to live say by the pound. I’m not saying life is a bitch, I ain’t saying fuck being Rich. I always wanted to praise what could be a perfect placid pastoral floral portal but there’s just so many things that make the word sound horrible. No there is a special feeling for me, if I ever see graffiti, or a big billboard in nyc, whether backwards or way its supposed to be, I love the H-T-R, A to the E never D-i-e… let’s make this world a place to live free, and breathe easy. I’ll fight for you if you please keep supporting me. I always think of you when the air is Breezy.

My b****, she rather see herself die than me she always shock me like lightning wake me up in the dark night I never flinch but the stress kills when shadow is a mere reflection no-one standing in the mirror the cradle dusty not rocking no books they all on the shelf and the dresses’ on the hanger or under the bed. She always gone before I wake. On Tuesdays I show off looking for an empty chair in the stands and I make sure her sisters laugh and get to church on time. The old folks try to school me the young kids try to fool me. The grass is always dying somewhere and my image fades like cigar smoke. Always throwing sparks onto a frozen lake because I see fire under the water but the sky is burning behind me and the kings are jesting from high runways while the embers fade in the once strong roots of my backbone.

Yea it’s true, you want the truth, you can’t handle the truth. Hold up, take this to the booth. I rap you rap we rap they rap, it’s all just rapping until it’s a rap. It’s all just rap until you’re a rapper. It’s just being a rapper until you’ve got a rap. Well this is the written that should have been spittin. There is no present for spitting unless you have the mic in which case hip-hop is living. Yo like I said, I be doing words. I’m an animal with this from bugs to the birds. I spit all day, when I should be speaking. If we’re friends why is the faucet leaking. Who the fuck knows. I really don’t. There were tools of the trade before there was a quote. Yea you might not follow, I have very few of those. I could go anywhere with the freestyle alpha flows. What I wanted to say was man versus the machine, but it didn’t start out that way; it was me and beam versus they. It was close encounters fuck a three way. It was just this stick, that water, and my dick. It was the prime rib the free tail the hunt and the paint pail. The pavement speaks of liquor, oil, and seeds. The give a damns the mushrooms and the sound of sea recede. The sand so coarse can not withstand nature’s course. The tiny roots that keep me from falling down the icy shelf. It keeps the rock together if no one says that it means anything. The layers of tar and the mold fermenting is all just a retarded flame sinking ever deeper to somehow bring the feet that have no bearing on ground where no grain is sacred. So I say bring me closer to mother earth. I can no longer blame the tree for hiding the light from me as I refuse to climb on limbs so pure. For if the fruit falls far from the tree then my eyes will rest upon the sun and upon thee. With no character of infinite definition or physical encryption the sky will always be free of the Earth’s premonition. The flies landing on my windshield and the helium in the air taking snap shots from the top of the table. If machines wish to give us cable only slackers will decide if the power lines are able. When I the voice on the speaker box find solace through discord there will be no feedback on Earth of a man unable.


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