1999: Rip The Mic / Lyrical War
Writing was my way out when I ain't have a pot to piss in
Sorrow forming symphonies preluded compositions
Just another way to cope since hope was nonexistant
A concerto full of chaos misunderstood by opposition
As far as competition I see they long to have it
But I can't explain how or why it starts as magic
A masterpiece completed from what my thoughts imagined
Plus the flow was butter so I see how it's hard to catch it
It'll go from dark & tragic to light & bliss
It's simply just a mask, I decide what to disguise it in
The sun is out but the sky is dim, pardon the contradiction
I've seen artist come close to the regular, but not with this shit
Can't explain how my mind works or why I'm dreaming of terror
I bet the answer's in the puzzle that I've been piecing forever
Been told I was sick, I've been battling my own health
Every line I've yet to think of will become a shadow of my own self
I'm the type to enjoy storms since I get lost in the lightning
'99 is not the topic, it's a timestamp for how long I've been writing
Sporadic but the dots connect, feel like the best but I've yet to prove it
Still trying to find myself, but I feel complete when my pen is moving
We've been flooded by artist who drown innovation
From the bottom of my heart- It's been years since I found inspiration
I see the way you react, the way you long for approval
Now, I'm in a league full of writers- & I've only started to doodle
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