| I don’t know whether it was the Ritalin | 
| Or he was just spaced out but | 
| He just sat there writing words and, didn’t make any sense | 
| Maybe got too rough with him but | 
| Times were different and look how he turned out | 
| He turned out okay, yeah it was okay | 
| Yeah, my slow mind races on auto-pilot | 
| Reachin my arm’s limitation, born a baby giant | 
| Wishing my mom used birth control so I scream in silence | 
| It’s bittersweet, enough time to be wickedly good, as a dull diamond | 
| My voodoo science is terribly please live in death, tragic comedies | 
| Uncrowned king of wordless books and forgotten memories | 
| It’s a victimless crime, I want a virgin birth | 
| An uncommonly normal unwelcome greeting I receive for this Earth | 
| It’s a religious war, my music’s a complete success | 
| It’s the audience that’s a failure, am I wastin my breath? | 
| A wise fool possess drowning in the dry pool of bliss | 
| You thank God you’re an atheist, my writing shits on Macbeth | 
| School interferes with education | 
| Only thing I don’t procrastinate with is procrastination | 
| Oxymoron, you got Van Gogh’s ear for music, true fiction | 
| I’m thinkin out loud — using dumb wisdom | 
| Silent art child | 
| I’ve been overlooked, and I’ve been shitted on | 
| Step-father broke my jaw, my momma kicked me out | 
| Lived in the graveyard, was almost down and out | 
| Had women break my heart, was cursed before I start | 
| But still I had my art, I cried in the dark | 
| And my control of words, is all that I got | 
| So I am satisfied, since it’s a gift from God | 
| I’m gonna share with y’all, the silent art child | 
| It’s easy to just sit there and judge me | 
| But you weren’t there, I’m his mother | 
| I was in the projects taking care of his so-called creative ass | 
| To just say that I sat there and did nothing is really heavy | 
| They say that no one loves a genius child | 
| As quoted by Langston Hughes invited exile | 
| I’m not okay, I’m a beautiful beast imprisoned while with a frowned smile | 
| Blood healed, awaken dreams, crucified spittin violent vows | 
| Lying vows, standing bows, optimistic pessimism | 
| Blind justice, eyes without sight, claimin to have vision | 
| I’m like an angry corpse that is dancin in his own grave | 
| A fully mixed Mulatto son of master half of freed slaves | 
| Write my wrongs, silent songs, taking paralyzed steps | 
| I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left | 
| You gave me nothing to live up to, how could I disappoint? | 
| I stood in the way of you bein dead, my strongest weakest point | 
| Abused cause I didn’t do what you told me to do | 
| When you didn’t know what you were doing, all high and confused | 
| My silent art child, smart heart scarred | 
| Keeps me lovin you knowin you gonna hurt me, you’ve done it before | 
| Y’all don’t deal with that | 
| I mean in the end what does it matter? | 
| I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel any way about my life | 
| It’s my son, my life | 
| Yeah, an honorable villain and damn saint | 
| That’s brutally comforted in my sick health, and baptized in hate | 
| I tried not to think, I quietly just wrote my rhymes | 
| Abuse casted a shadow that has lasted a lifetime | 
| Questionable answers that’s for my humble arrogance | 
| Exposed to virtuous lies, taught with ugly attractiveness | 
| Classy ratchetness, parents unconscious competence | 
| Busy relaxin, I’m an on-purpose accident with no past defense | 
| Feared like poor millionaires living in Hell’s paradise | 
| We’re alone together in this organized mess I write | 
| Sky raining mute, idle chatter, bad angels sound | 
| Rival containing vital viral matter, clouds |