Lyrics

Many artists departed before careers progressed.
Leaving all their belongings including all song lists.
Instead of college funding for children, astonished,
that men in a suit have contracts for all of it.
Maybe that's why I don't fly. (I've) dropped bomb shit
way before 2005. The strongest
Lyricist beyond 5-0-5, and all it's
ever earned me was heartache & stress. What a calling?
Falling
into an abyss of madness. Is
this playlist
adjusted to twist imaginative bliss?
Risked so much happiness since
finding within
music exist.
Lift other souls, but always slip
deep down into darker crevices of hatred.
Leap, bound, find a better view of my creations.
Buried under paper, empty pens stock piled.
Rock while
no one cares to watch styles.
Hostile minded
find hits of Mary Jane combined with
heavy loads of bass, jazz records, I can find hints of peace.
Squint to see in the distance
since the cemetery's close to me like my brother's kids is (are).
Wishes never came through, cause I couldn't handle business.
Lifted on the daily. never lazy, bricks been
laid out. Built foundations quickly,
but every time frames went up,
felt like something was missing.
Change design again, rhyme for friends, but they're tired of listening.
The way it seems now: I'm never gonna see the world like I visioned.
Mission aborted?
No! Just distorted.
The world still orbits, then I'm still reporting.
Old habits return when money's needed. It's a must
rules get bent a bit, but only for the benefit that the puppy's fed again.
Heavy protein regimen, as well as be able to dose on my medicine.
Unsettling memories leave me like kids on Ritalin.
Empathy for the homeless,
searching for my own shit.
Getting old, even better, met a queen.
Living in the desert where the guns are never clean.
Dream
of a better place but it's not real.
The whole world's ugly!
Slowing changing how I feel.
Used to be so optimistic, now all I witness
is negativity. No time for being gifted.
Wishesno longer desire for any existence.
Grind till it's over!
Blind to the whole show.
Now I'm the grown folk
giving up my soul glow
like Eddie Murphy's 80's classics before dough.
Looks like there's only 2 options
available to opt in:
One's be a slave, the other's in a coffin.
Hop in since my head's a brick (that's been) aged & hardened.
Losses? I lost count before I even started.
Progress? My career was stalled quick.
Black balled before I could even show off a small bit.
Ridiculous it seems, but try living it.
My nights meticulous, never changing not a little bit.
My morning's serene
until I look out the window.
Cold winter weather, better smoke more indo.
Alone for most days
not knowing names of kin folk.
Survival isn't difficult
if you've ever lived broke.