Failure is freedom, the only real freedom is death, so freedom is a death sentence, death is freedom from tense sentences, okra steez taught me that in text messages

Selling pieces of my secretes on cd’s, and leaflets, don’t take Rosetta stone to decode this, we’re all alone since we were born, the day that you die will be the day that you notice

I don’t’ read books I write them

Don’t sing songs, I teach um

Grand visions I’m changing im name to non-fiction, this diction is missing the grand scheme of absolutely nothing

You think I’m standing on the ground, I’m really hovering

You think I’m just clowning around, I’m up to something

When you fools stay true to the past, I be moving forward

You sticking to your hood and I keep pushing boarders

I would say your shit is old, but I don’t believe in time

The singularity we’re floating in, is in my mind

So I’ma recreate the world with every line

Pick apart the pieces televise the pixelated

The human spirit rest in nature when it has been faded

Inundated with popular music pollution

You think that you’re good, like a child molesting christen

But I’ma just laugh at your sad Mentality

When you will never realize that your reality Is you

Art isn’t worth shit unless it says something different, and nothing new has been said since the pharaohs ran Egypt. So what the fuck do you rappers have left. I’ll give you a hint, it’s not skinny jeans and backpacks