Rappers channel the dead let the soul fly

Those who’ve passed push on the pen

Let the ghost write

Lowlife never amounted to a finite

They met tricks off the metrics

No perspective of the cosign

Home is where the heart is

Cats overdose on they morose

A starving artist

From coast to coast

I Space a spector cut Phil-ets

Inept my Markets Big East

Meets Gillettе

Edge of the Pen

Dirt can еncase every end

Of this place, I embrace

Every changing of bend

Ask me when

As if to save face, or pretend

That i'm not in a state

To replace all my wins

Start again

I ain't never been to strong

I ain't never been too long

For the shadows on the ground

I ain't never been too wrong

I ain't never been too long

To speak it into sound

Its the sickest taste

Wicked grace within the runes

I inscribe in tunes to animate

Intended but innate

Pitter patter heart upon a beat

Can hear it syncopate

Wonder when I die if God’ll greet me

With a metal face

I can feel my demons try to eat me

In a drunken state

Thousand eels stomachs all reachin

For my dinner plate

I can stand out upon the shoulders of my own stan

I can snatch the pieces of my life from out its cold hands

Whose that foot in my steps

What the means to my purpose

Whats a right when they've left

When defeat becomes urges

I become my own death

Means i become my own life

I could be a whole person

If I could take my advice

Ive- always been so wrong

Ive- always been far gone

I just want to be free

Ive- always been so strong

Ive- always belonged

I just need to be me