Bars - Intellectual

[Verse 1: Taelor Gray]

Lofty

Idle with my idols, I shift to Ryan Gosling

Drive, moxie; this Holy Spirit proxy

Communicates my next move

And every step is graceful, shades of Bing Crosby

And I be staring at these bars

A prisoner of listeners

Hoping they be caring about these bars

And thus begins my sentence

Thus begins my sentence, saith God, in old English verb tenses

I hope you're catching it, my rhymes come with this catcher's mitt

But it's rarely at a faster pitch

It's more like Kaepernick just outside the pocket

Man, it's gain either way, look, (I'm game either way)

Man, they saying that art imitates life

But I'm feeling we be wanting the reverse

Searching for the answers or a canvas we can penetrate

Like, I'm defined by my verse or we defined by our works

Like we can trust 'em

Muskets stuffed with gunpowder, just to make us louder

And really we just cowards

Really we just clouded

You see the daylight, but we late night Jimmy Fallon

Sitting on that lonely island

Please like my status, please like my magic

I'm wearing all these hats just to pull you out these rabbits

Applaud a fraud and you can see the farce

But I'm with Paul and Silas 'cause I stay behind these bars

[Chorus: Christon Gray]

In the moonlight, seems like

You keep me under lock and key

Oh, I'm locked away

Nowhere to hide, but find me dancing in the dungeon

I find release today

[Verse 2: Christon Gray]

Uh, I'm including myself

No stealth, hidden agendas

No self-driven opinions

I felt heavy, y'all

Nd Bill Withers had this song

Called me use me up

Recorded the fender

Hits my heart

And for my Lady Wisdom

I been a contender with my heart

Not the most worthy defender, though

Trustworthy, that is

Some heard me on that while others will hit me on this

Trust me, I used some in the most literal sense

'Cause there's many more I tend to touch

Plenty that don't attend a church

I'm an artist, you don't gotta give me much

Just tryna warm up the temperature

Some yellows, reds, and the the mini-brush

It's all about the details

I'm only my signature

Dominate, so dominate, subordinate

Everything still needs order, Chris

Really ain't that important, Chris

How can we move on from this

My pride had me like

"I beg your pardon, I'm an artist fine."

His reply was, "Fine art is not design."

To which I reply, "Beg you to pardon my artist mind."

Seems like I'm colored out of the margin lines

And all this time creating this mental prison

Sentencing myself for my failure

I'm the inmate and the jailer

Wow, they say life is what you make it

But I've made it in the bars and cages