I haven’t made a dollar off of rap, not even close

I’ve spent more money on open mics than shoes and clothes

For the past few years, filled up iPhone notes with flows

So I can try to share some thoughts before I decompose

It’s not about the clout or counting up the following

It’s more about acknowledging that nagging in my consciousness

That little voice became too prominent

You know the one - the little kernel of a concept

That wriggles into your brain then you just brush it off quick

But then it reappears, this time a little louder

On the bus or in the shower, entertain it for an hour then

Let it go. You don’t know where that could lead

Now it comes up every week, you think about it and you can’t sleep

You can’t ignore it now

I know the feeling. I’d been pondering for so long

The way that it would feel to grip the mic and share a couple songs

I guess the reason that I rap is I’m compelled to

The buzzing in your head knows what you want so let it tell you

Around the time my Dad found out that I was rapping

He told me that he always wished he tried his hand at acting, but

It never happened