Uh yeah, said I don’t need you,
said I would leave you.
surrounded by evil,
found out it don’t treat me equal,
pray to sky looking like prey,
can I trust an eagle?
Shouldn’t see you as legal,
freedom can feel lethal.
Feeling feeble
kneeling in a fetal,
needles filling me with fecal.
Do you love people,
Please remain peaceful not penal.
Who else to speak to,
can’t see through
another of these squeals.
Frieghtend by fighting giants.
Defining defiance
demoralizing
moral license.
Horrifying how its glorifying,
glorify it while we whore eyes to it,
Horus eyes the horizon
notarize Poseidon
to fortify islands with mortified Sirens,
organized sirens
that siphon silence by hyphen sizes
formalized licentious violence
with a likened trident.
Tried it as a tightened titan
tied to smitting,
sided with deaths ripen scion
by hiding Hymen
behind a heightened Midas.
Might us mighty minds of pious
minus the guidance
of idle idols through Titus.
I’s is the iris Isis can’t see Wells,
got a bias for Ida.
Who gone fight us if they find us,
sigh at the science of self-reliance.
Christ’s crisis signs us
to bless like sinus
by signs of his highness.
Matter of fact
I craft this track
from the matter of facts
talking bout the matter of facts
in a manner that’s fast
Yeah the homie sore,
grounded as poor,
who gone help him soar,
he gone have to help himself for sure.
Over four score and a century before,
Lincoln’s inkling for freedom was the linkage
leaving Lee canned,
stumbling more than lean can,
yet don’t always feel like a free man.
They gave us a month
like that’s enough
time to remember what was done to us
time to remember how far we’ve come
like our history only begun
once they started stealing our daughters and sons.
It’s coo cause our daughters and sons
gone run the funds we been shunned from.
Shoutout my wife whose plunged in this dungeon
to free those chained to budgets
drunken on poverty’s judgement.
But won’t deny we clobbered Robert,
So I can be more than a cobbler.
But we still call men fruit like cobbler
Trying to bring dishonor.
Offer my autumn auburn
as a stalker of scholars
to stock her with proper proverbs
to prod her worth prosper stronger.
But improper imposters
Prop her to stop her as pauper
Want souls to convert from that concert
of copper to gold.
Out here soul searching,
searching my soul searching for souls,
this search can get old,
disturbing I’m told.
Not a scrub, but a surgeon in clothes,
serving so his surging feels close,
but we purchase purging
with merchants merging,
treating people like merch to be sold.