You see It's about time for me to not be so humble anymore
You can't contribute Mother fucker to a game that your not a gift to
You never heard the truth like this and my lineage is official
I got enough background for two and my city tends to get brittle
In the Winter my depression gets insidious, but it's pretty in mid June
Shoot
I Don't know if I'll be forgiven again and again for every sin I commit
The scent of Newport smoke holds a sentiment embedded deep in my system
On Penn Avenue get stripped of your innocence
I keep flexing my vision in a sense
I beat complex systems meant to see I'm lost in a psychiatric clinic, institution, or prison
So I'm instituting my gifts because I'm gifted
I've been involuted in painting vivid pictures of unfortunate misgivings
But I'm so fortunate and I've never been confused about my privilege
Through an induced amount of chemicals and a profuse amount of sickness
I hit the ground so hard and bounced far above the illusion of a useless crown
And parts of your true story that don't fit into your cool image
Fuck it
It's starting to get disgusting dishing this hot chicken Summer to Christmas
Since For The Lost Children I guess all my verses reflect my mental illness
Put you in a ditch or leave you livid
I remember having hot piss and praying to Jesus that my PO was gone fishing
I always thought I could start a revolution but people told me to be realistic bullshit
Now it's time to be realistic
There's never been verses as honest, words as prolific turned to a sentence
When statistics that said I'd make it past addiction were such a small percentage
This is spiritualistic not religious
I hear spirits in my head I see spirits with special vision
My third eye is blinking
Try to tell us how your living
But we can see it written on your face
You can try but you can't hide what's inside without an outward presence
Frank Vitale gave me wisdom while I was washing dishes
Now I got a 100 Jerm instrumentals and zero competition
All the notes inside of my phone could fill at least ten compositions
While you look for accolades I'm looking to ascertain the difference between God
And fake prophets with false claims that try to wrap my brain in
So I don't just pray I listen
This is Big Waves
I'll let the Universe put you in a grave and look away if you want to act like bitches
I need to not mask the pain on cloudy days getting ash on the window sill
After a long day of trying to find the next sentence to type rhymes
Flowing like rain through the gutter out of my intuition
Need a brain to have my type of women
I'd rather be broke than unoriginal because you can't buy these kinds of riches