Break Bread - Intellectual

[Hook: Illogic] {x2}

I brought rhymes to the table

And everybody made space

Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace

[Blueprint]

I brought beats to the table

And everybody made space

Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace

Illogic said grace

[Verse: Illogic]

I'm no longer tickled by you fickle fabrications

Of simple exhalations calculated with nonsense actually elevated

Now that I'm weightless, no longer lost in youth

Lost in which the teeth of a greenish tint

I've been rhyming since time and energy held hands, and you just

Had your first session last week, but you nice

Asking to do a song with Ill in the hope to flex the skill

But your vocals won't come out right, 'cause it's your second time at a mic

(What the hell is he doing?) I don't know, Print, the way these cats

Flow wack and wanna act like they not feeling me

Claiming I make up words and that I'm too abstract

'Cause I expand vocab in the lab and barely spit a simile

I'm trying to take hip-hop to places it's never been

Like your mom's deck, instead of having your sister hoping in her dreams

I want your grandma at my show, rocking my shirt

And your pops asking to use your copy of Unforeseen

'Cause I dropped a fly -ish, like an eagle

Smuggling illegal substance in bowel, fumbling droppings

You already receiving hate mail from labels, telling you you wack

And never catching a hit, you continue to keep shopping

They just don't get it (They need to be circled the finest china)

With a tall glass of fresh wine squeezed from the grapes of wrath

With a linoleum table cloth and [?] napkins

'Til they can listen to they own wack rapping and laugh

[Hook: Illogic] [Blueprint]

I brought beats to the table

And everybody made space

Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace

[Illogic]

I brought rhymes to the table

And everybody made space

Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace

And Blueprint said grace

[Verse: Blueprint]

There ain't enough time in the day

To shred your gay documents

You heard what it takes but you still did the opposite

And fronted like you was hungry for a battle

But you better restrict what you crave to White Castles

You want food for thought, how you like apples?

I got one with a worm in it I can toss at you

And I can tell by the way you bite styles

That the natural instinct is to catch it in your mouth

Straight sharking

But I got a box full of fingertips locked in my closet

When cats bite mine, I make deposits

It's sad what you gotta do to make 'em stop it

Take these words home and think 'em through

Or the next hand with four fingers might belong to you

Cats got it wrong cause they know your song

They think they got the right to stick their nose where it don't belong

You want to know where Print be digging at

You wanna know what spot I got my drums from

You wanna know what I be making beats on

I got a new piece of gear now you want one

Ain't nothing wrong with sharing information

But there was a lot of bullshit I had to go through

It made me appreciate the art form more

And you be missing that if I just told you

Cats be like...

"You nice on the beats Blueprint, can you do some for me?

Your shits' hot."

But when you say you don't believe in doing beats for free

All of a sudden, the phone calls stop

Fine

Now I can concentrate on me and mine

And bum rushing any open door we can find

I rep Greenhouse Effect

Seems we're gonna drop it

Life's Innocence, buy the album when I drop it

[Hook] {x2}

[Illogic] [x4]

I brought rhymes

He brought beats

The rest of you motherfuckers is weak. (You suck!)

Dance with me

Sinking slowly into the seas of shadow

Silently screaming for something, someone to save me

How many times must time catch me dancing off-beat with circus clowns oblivious to the obvious

As these severed heads sit upon my mantle daily declaring that I die also?

'Why lay dormant as you', I ask, demented without direction

No - no, no, I refuse your refuge recycled reflecting running rampant and wildly within

I see now

I see now for I cannot see next and before has slipped my mind

What do you see?

Do you see what you could have been or what you've become?

I see what I am

I see in me, I see I am shining through from behind my eyes

Find yourself in life's rhythm and dance with me

Move your soul step by step towards perfect

Find life's rhythm only within and then, only then, you may dance

The faces we weave

This tapestried headdress upon the height of my existence metamorphs to fit the occasion

The rooms of life change as does the mask worn to show the person hoping to be presented at the present position of sand or time to the layman

This face doesn't begin to show the sides of this polygon

Movement into new words cause new masks to be invented

Green pastures are invented for mask removal, relaxation from impersonation of self

When you look at me, what do you see?

What you want to or what I allow

Do the two combine at times to create a mesh of persons encompassed in one?

Encased in face concocting, we continue to build veils of brick to shield the extensive, horrid view with face paints of faulty framework

How can one so stable morph at a dime drop?

Do I do that?

Do you do that?

We all take part in the dance of the [?]

Stand atop your table of despair

Your table set in the presence of thine enemies as you blend as an imposter

So continue to blend and lose thyself

When you set your eyes upon this shell, you see the mask that you wish, not the mask that is there

Very few take time to reach past their perception and dive into the reality of personality

In your eyes, I am what you mold me to be when in most cases, that's not who I am

Due to society, we constantly stand on the brink of transformation unbeknownst to ourselves because of typecasting

To you, who am I?

To me, who are you?

The answer to these questions continue to change as we seek a redefinition of ourselves through mask creations

New masks are formed as we encounter the scenery on this journey of life, whether the scenery positive or negative

A new face is molded accordingly by you or the beings you come in contact with

So be conscious of what mask you wear while I sit dreaming of the day where we won't have to wear masks at all

Imagine that

Where am I now?

Not where I want to be, but supposed to be, I hope

I am, therefore I breathe, I breathe, therefore I live, yet at times, I do not exist

See, existing is not necessarily living, I've found

Many exist as the walking dead, as I do at times, to escape just living

It kinda makes you think, why escape just living?

Well, just living isn't always just, at times, it's just insane or it's just pain

But the pain and/or insanity are often justified as just life

I am prey trapped in the snares of just life

Hoping to be freed by just death, which many fear, but I reply, it's just death

At that point, I am silenced by a just life, that I enjoy, though painful

Pleasure rears its beautiful head more often than not to remind me that a just life must be accompanied by just living

Yet at times, I still wish to just exist, encouraging me to just live

See at times, I wish to just exist

But that encourages me to continue to just live

Fallen

I've fallen from the clouds, but on my feet I've fallen

Crouched in fetal position, a high wire master, but I've fallen

Was hoping to shine on the stage where asteroids dance hand in hand waving banners that read 'star', but I've fallen

An apple connected to the roots that dug into the earth, but why does my core deem itself domicile to the thoughts of earthworms?

I've fallen into that ditch too many times, but time does nothing but encourage me to look forward to the time when I would fall again

Why fall when you can float?

Why walk when you can read?

Why speak when you can write?

Why bleed when you can dream, or can you dream?

It seems your dreams stop at the last sheep counted, straddling the picket fence beneath

Where my voice leaves waves and doesn't look back, reminding me that the high wire is too risky and the sidewalk street swallows men whole

Earth angels with clipped wings and dismal togas, dingy from the desolate walk with me

I walk with me and see myself in the better light that tips the sun rays, and watch my falling thoughts rev on revolving runways

I am not strange

I stand at the forefront of this race

Though my race has four fronts, all masked

Each solo hue all adapted from the fourth

I am not strange

Though my life is an open book that began with chapter twelve and the proceeding chapters are charred on the charcoals glowing at a furious 451 Fahrenheit

Is this the height of my being?

Am I being too abstract for laymen to catch each parable thrown into the garden of tombstones with a lack of shieldings from smooth stones lay men?

I stand alone in this old brick house that sits atop the highest molehill that each mountain you see is made out of

I am not strange

Yet I am drawn to the pencil that draws my perspective in a strange fashion

Is it strange that I enter the shooting range baring arms that drip phalanges from each palm?

When all along this long shot at living the 19th Psalm has me sweating bullets perforating each moving target

Stop moving

Stop moving unless 'multi' is the precursor to your direction

Have I lost direction?

Have I found the strange in my direction?

Though the range of the strange in my direction floats [?] like clutching the [?]

I am engulfed by the patience I lack to operate the knob turning the change stations

Yet I'm yearning to change stations

I am not strange

She had plans to follow my footprints that I left in duration sands, but the overwhelming wave crash of my emotion's ocean wash the path away

"How can I follow when they've washed the path away?" she screams

She wondered why the path now was only walked in her dreams

Am I too late?

Or is it too early to say?

See, where I stay, the walls close in, attempting to box in this poem but I can say at least she knows I am not strange

Well, is it strange that I-think-I-cans turn I-thought-I-coulds and the sun only shines when I sleep?

Yeah, it's strange that the sun only shines when I sleep

And I sleep now 'cause my shadow is cast on the sidewalk street from the sunshine

And pinholes trace my eyelids from the sunshine where darkness burns through as I sleep

I sleep on cloth-covered tables that rest on the backs of goblins that waken when my eyes close to snatch my dreams

They catch my dreams, thrown from its incubator where I hatch my dreams

I am not strange

For two and a half years I've been voluntarily locked in my locks as an old shoebox, airtight

The air might hold a key to each lock to be unlocked within myself as a task within itself

She seemed to notice the burial of my eyes into my breastplate

Not hidden, buried

Resting

I am not strange

Though the sun only shines when I sleep, I am not strange

The moon glows as it walks and talks with me

Hands clasp around my wrist, but every recap of this list insists

I am not strange

I am not

Strange