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