Under the sun.

By Matityahu

On The Faraway Tape.

Released on December 4, 2018

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Know the city hot I got my patna to the side of me

Got a lil job it feel like we done hit the lottery

Everytime I go outside I got my eyes peeled on the block it be

Niggas looking for a come-up

Cause we ain't got no bread and ain’t got much to lose monopoly

That we call America is run by men's hypocrisy

Whole land in hysteria just looking for ways not to be

Piece of mind come rare as commas

Who you are and your perception are reflections

Only one is real but both can receive or block blessings

Only one appeals to the popular eye

The way only the way because you choose to comply

It's crazy at the rate at which our children do die

I’m blazing everyday erase the fear from my mind

A razor on my side erase the fear from my mind

I pray it ain't my time

Rays filled with divine pierce from fields of my mind

I pray I don't forsake it pray I fulfill design

Created by the infinite mind

And mistaken by the snakes who pray on innocent kind

I'm just waiting for the day at which we avenge their crimes

And debating on if waiting is the reason we dying

Will the karmic laws of nature do the work of the side

Of the righteous or just loop until the times turn the tide then we rise

Then we rise

Then we rise

Then we fall

Is that all? Is that all?

Or do we rise?

To the skies

When our lives

No longer... are

Searching through the vaults of my soul I see

Versions of coercion manifest on my solar seat

Urges to be perfect with a voice like that's impossible

Merging to immersing myself in a sea that's plausible

Innocence is subject to a view that's seen as objective

In a sense we live within a sense of being objects of

Beneficiaries of a benedict that's not yet done

And if we being honest the benedict has not begun

And the war is not yet won

And the sword is hot as sun

And the way I wield it got me feeling like a Bakugan

And you cannot stop the way I’m moving fuck yo octagon

Hands in crowd best oscillate to music or let shots be rung

Confusion manifested into rhyme

Then transmuted through yo mind

To a tool to redefine

What the schools have realigned

Into fusion truth and lies

Misusing their influence

So affluence can thrive