| So many things on the brain, just to hang
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| The ink drips on the page, I feel priveledged to say
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| That a song saved me from dying
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| Them times I try to keep in mind
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| We’re affecting peoples life thru rhymes
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| Rapping, thoughts jotted on a napkin
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| Balled it up, found a month later in my other jacket
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| Tone raspy, cuz I’ve got a cold
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| Words written powerful, my handwriting but still, I don’t know
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| If I wrote it, and if so what was I going thru then
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| Written in pen, I use pencil.
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| But then again.
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| Sometimes you use whatever u got
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| Ain’t nothin wrong, I done used Neiori’s crayons
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| For songs yall play all day long
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| We make wrong right again
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| Dive in headfirst to write a verse tighter than the last one I wrote
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| And I’ll pass on the smoke, sippin aloe vera juice from a can
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| You quote me, write on.
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| 2nd Verse (Imani Bilal)
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| Love, hate, sunshine, rain
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| Art will always remain the remedy for pain
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| As thoughts scribe themselves on walls of my brain
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| I claim my story and spit it
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| To make the seeds think
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| Sitting backwards in empty pastures
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| As I bleed ink and sink in it
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| This is what happens when I empty my self into myself
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| This is what happens when
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| Life’s hands offer no help and then I
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| Drift into a translucent dream
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| That is my only reality
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| Gladly folding the alphabet in such dimensions that
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| One sentence becomes an entire world
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| The universe is in you
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| Believe that, and see what the pen do, write on.
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| 3rd Verse (yU)
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| And I done seen a whole lot, so
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| For me, I’ve found a way to let thoughts go
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| And I might talk slow, I write songs
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| Speak from the heart, & not the skull
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| Got soul, inscripted in each scroll that I scribble in
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| Chizeling what I meant within the width of the paper’s lines
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| I try to take my time wit it
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| Rhyming like I’m venting, this is my opinion
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| I am sending. |
| Thru song, its everliving
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| Won’t forget it.
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| Blending with rhythm. |
| When spitting, I relay vision
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| Folks listen. |
| Like a solstice who chose THIS, over chilling
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| Ready & willing, write or wrong, turn it to song, calm as a seance
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| The lights stay on
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| Without the use of electric, the candles lit
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| Glowing like tips of incents, the ashes drift
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| Feeding my habit again, I grabbed a pen. |
| Start imagining
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| Thoughts gathering, patterns on my notepad I write on… |