I don't want you listenin' to the music,
You gotta hear what I'm saying,
And that "you" is plural, so,
From your perspective, "we",
Pure truth, I ain't playin',
So FEEL IT before you taste defeat,
And I whip y'all niggas up like cream of wheat
That feeds the weak, so alter your actuality,
Patriotic mu'fuckas can't face reality,
I'm American but fuck AmeriKKKa,
Hauled away by pigs that claim I'm hysterical,
I lock this rhyme in beat like a stylus in a wax groove,
Premeditated lyricist like CL Smooth - forever movin',
And my state of whyme defines my mood,
When the jealous cowards attack,
I'm prepared with a mind that's stacked with rhymes intact,
In times of stress, my brain react madly,
Triggered by the fools that can't discern lie from fact,
In fact, they utterly lack the ability to honestly rap,
Thus establishing where my tier is at,
When compared to these toys with synthesized dope rhymes,
Plus, I keep my tempo in mind, thus pacin'
the flow that's unarguably sacred,
Yeah, the ballad of the sacred artists,
Next to whom, all these nouveau-suckas look retarded,
That's right, intellectuals, we the smartest,
We got heart, so we send prayers to departed,
Anyways, on the false I won't dwell,
So please not another rhyme about ya crack sales,
An overdone feat, like bad food, that style is overcooked,
Like my rhymes is overlooked but that don't get me faded,
I don't care, long as by hip hop, I'm appreciated,
How will I fare on the no-end path? It's confusing,
So I'm perusin' writings in search of wisdom,
Fifteen but already got the grays creepin' in on the side,
Every breath is sacred, so my time I gotta bide,
I was told that my words could move mountains,
But that leaves me wonderin' to what my work's ammounted,
Don't know when I go so I'll keep up this flow,
Liquid lyrics as if my pen was a water fountain,
Even if I'm forever a new jack, I'ma keep goin',
'cause only the real can truly do that, knowin',
The MC is only as sacred as the rhymes that he's makin',
sike naw please fam
