Sunday, May 15, 2005

My words are tight, like a boyscout knot
I’ve seen the light, though they yell/shout not
I wake up every day, a god to my thoughts
So listen when I say, music’s on the block
So listen up y’all I got a story I wanna tell
From the drop of the ball, they were sentenced right to hell
With shoes that sorta smelled and the dope they tried to sell
It’s the dawn of an age, as these letters hit the page
Music as a compass to navigate this maze
Lyric vandalism, Rebel soliloquism,
Hip Hop was the answer, but now it’s our damn mission
Pioneers rose to the top as they looked up at the judge
Pac had a vision, but now the ink is smudged
The book they say is foreign, without pain we can’t relate
Now they say it’s boring, as your write from your estate
Wheels, bitches, more ice than in the tray
This feels, itches, somewhere we’ve gone astray
This isn’t just quite math, but the division is quite clear
Rappin out their joints, not to objective ear.
There is a difference from art, and a clever mix of words
So where is it I start? To free you from the herds?
It’s not because I hate, I really don’t resent
I just see a dollar, where there’s only fifty cent

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