as far as lyrical growth its apparent: he'll be good/
he been missed like periods at planned parenthood/
and i know he need waiting room/
it takes time to come to this epiphany/
seem like what they expect and assume
be the same things restricting me/
and i'm far from a boa/
escape the downpour of negativity
creatively like Noah/
piece by piece i build this boat/
rhyme for rafters, solid structure make it float/
throw em a line or two
see if they bite/
give em a hook to chew
and let it sink in just right/
their cheeks hurt from smiling hard/
i give hugs, fuck a business card/
my friendliness sets me apart/
and i'm proud of that fact/
who ever said anger was a prerequisite to
reciting this rap/
can take a history lesson/
learn to distinguish fake rage from the genuine/
see most rappers are mad about something/
they just don't know how to express what/
so they anger come thru lyrics on guns, hustle, big butts/
give the masses what they wanna hear/
scary movie dicks fuckin brains from ear to ear/
the rest of us project our anger and snap
'bout the delusion being fed by this mainstream rap
but that mentality aint right/
spitting so much phlegm on other artists
can't moisten our lips at the mic/
and we, ourselves, lost the sight/
how is saying hip-hop's dead
helpin a kid get to sleep at night/
making a teen's twisted theme song
stop getting air time, stop being "tight"
it doesn't/
lets be real/
we preaching to the choir/
conscious heads are your audience
like preteens and Lizzie McGuire/
and it don't matter if i get a tight beat/
cuz they just won't play me/
but thats alright, cuz i know i needed
more than a song to truly save me/
more than women praising lyrics to
erase the misogyny/
it took more than lyrical mirrors
to examine the flaws-in-me/
i fuckin hate this philosophy/
want to write rhymes bout my life
but i'm scared my subject matters' not plausibly/
what you adhere to/
and honestly i fear to/ ride shotgun wit u
thru my life without holdin
directions to steer-to/
i'm a FUCKED UP CHICK/
got issues for free
like what mags be FILLED UP WITH/
i'm busting at the seams/
seems i'm confident of the way
but don't got the means/
or is the other way around/
cuz i be prepared for the noise
but can't make a sound/
so i stay low to the ground/
listen to The Roots/
lipsing Lauryn, Bahamadia, Nina, 'Manuva. Strange fruit/
swings from mic cords,
i watch the patterns they keep:
well behaved boys claim to be criminals/
macho men bully us to get deep/
good girls pretend to be promiscuous
tough women front like they weak/
poor people claim to have cash flow/
the rich write about struggle cuz they seek/
numbers and acceptance/
no humble repentance/
and boasting is fine long as you don't finish the sentence/
but i'ma change all that/
cuz after i finish beatin jokers senseless with my lyrical bat/
i'm gon go home, unfulfilled, tonguing open wounds
where my own flaws are at
