I came up gamed up nah mean?
Master my craft, find my purpose and live my truth, a poets digest

Heads purchase my art and hit return to cart
Instead of search the charts no fan forgot my urban birthmark
Playa placin pens in hands from my inspiration
Made men into great authors based on my narrations
It begins with a spark that’s intrinsic to the heart
The part of the brain that creates thoughts starts from a charge
Long ago my frontal lobe developed a cognitive flow
Unobdurate by the ohm of my forefathers poems
Opaque vocab made me read more to see beyond
my third eye needed songs to demystify the fog
Lingering in my thinking, like subconscious after taste
My rap’s a slab of organic salad laid on a napkin plate
Balance the meatheads wit plant based green flesh
USD money tone is the color niggas see best
It translates to success that’s what they digest
The underlying concept Is left to you to bond the science


Nah mean? I can’t just give it you, this third eye trainin, a spiritual practice for the soul, yea... heir baby


Love is the license to life, hate qualifies death
They even colonized our breath with talk of their quest
My text predates murders and rape and Christian faith
Based on brainwashing kings giving religion to slaves
What’s at stake? A whole generation
No insulation, in a low basement, open to cold inhalation
Frozen faces that don’t change the older they grow
Numb to the same rodeo bull rollover show
See us? All blocks are connected like Jenga
Links in the cement a chain reaction triggered from a finger
Pull a gun watch a bullet run through a hundred thugs
Cause once one’s hit another gotta die then another one
Someone gotta put a lock on Pandora’s box
It’s a constant war with cops and the laws are wraught
Rocks to a ocean of Guap that stop the flow
Not the rhyme kind though Thas all I know


We live in pyramids, check the rooftop of where you live
Triangles on rectangular prisms like we in villages
Egypt is what I’m witnessin everyday
A geometric way of seein things never changed, they resurrect the same
Except the bay, heavy wit slang
Hella game, I came up in the day listening to the greats,
Mac Dre, planet asia my taste just elevates
From my buds to the roof of my mouth and sticks like paint,
I got a colorful palette and my paintbrush is talent
Crush the atlas wit a mallet cause I’m from low income housin
And wanna flatten the playing field to see equality
For every immigrant progeny that has wants and needs
We’re the majority our mobb is deep rip prodigy
We come from sovereignty livin out modern day prophecy
They don’t want us to leave our autobiography
A liar doesn’t believe there’s honor in honesty