| I sign his space’s with time existant blare
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| I hold the mic like a memory
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| There was a time when I couldnt find energy
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| The only person that was filln’me was Mrs. Hennesey
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| Ahh, Its like life was pinnin’me down
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| I used to gout on the town and get instantly clowend
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| You aint gonna be a rapper, you not a factor
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| You just a kentucky boy, get yourself a tractor
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| Chasing out the bogus dreams that you never acheive
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| Thats when the liquer and weed became a need
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| Self-esteem was about as low as ??
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| Asperations were about as big as Mertyl Ercle’s titties
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| Then as soon as I started geeting some pride
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| My sister high, druged, plain and died on ile 65
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| In a family full of pride, house full of tears
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| Spent many years with a blood stream of beers
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| Heart full of fears all ??, no cheers
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| Till the rhythem in my ears make my mind clear
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| Aiiyo, I hold the microphone enclosed in my palm
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| And go beyond the flows exposed in my songs
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| Cant grow fond of past memories
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| Cos negetivity leeds the way to live with vast energy
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| Offended by the mental imagery
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| And suggest livin’in poverty was really meant for me paternal tendancies towards chemical dependancies had me thinking that all
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| my enemies work into me And I cant begin to see how to control the flash backs
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| And progress past, all my style of dress got me laughed at Thought I was passed at But it attemps to reoccur when I dont proceive wat I feel I deserve
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| being slurred by those not livin’in my position,
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| My thoughts tend to glisten, Just like I’m kinda pissn'
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| And when I thought id risin', life freeze’s the frame
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| So I hold the mic like a memory to ease th pain.
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| I sit back on the flip, on the wild paths in my life
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| Only pain and heartache can feel my paths on the right
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| You know wat blasphermy’s like, cursing the god
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| Cause you aint got shit it hurts and its hard
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| Hell at times I steped it up to only stumble
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| Was forced to play tarzan in this concrete jungle
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| Most of my life’s a daze got me forever lighting haze
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| Trying to forget the times, where I barely ate twice a day
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| For, alone and helpless, so when I only felt the shame
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| sharing a twin bed in a homeless shelter
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| Few friends even then, most hommies is fake
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| Feel like a prisoner in my home pencil my only escape
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| I went from the block with my fam, to collage exams
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| But the pressures still there
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| Dog, I’m still scared
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| But I know it will all be right in the end
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| As long as I can focus my fears and channel my life through my pen |