Champagne (Malachi & Certain)

Malachi · 08-23-2014, 07:41 PM

Plat plaques in my grasp, what more of could I ask?
Rap on my back and shit aint even spraining my spine
Shits reallly been straining on my mind
How now Dimes just aimin for my dimes
Used to be I couldnt find a quarter of they time
to spend but now Prophet got signed like a check
and this brown skinned Penny's scent round my pent startin to make sense
but fuck it tho...
Shit still aint changed
Still tryna stay sane or maybe play sane n maintain
Still tryna lessen the stressin, countin my blessings
but its hard steppin in the Right direction when you Left in depression.
Depressing how the press and the media just gettin greedier
to catch a nigga slippin, envision me trippin
On a mission to see me go missin, but shit it was written
so know I dont stiffen nor listen
i keep distance from these vultures, fake as sculptures
That only speak to wet they beak but was countin sheep
when I was beneath my peak but deceit is whats expected for certain
Serpents lurk and slither, watching my figures like anorexics
urging for me to get withered out the picture
They get scissored out it quicker
but fuck it tho I aint had shit handed to me but malice
MY palms been calloused
I practiced my practice and went from Styrofoam to chalice
Now departed from apartments I go home to lavish
but still cant find room for balance in this palace...

...15 minutes later...

Squandered a heap, the hardest defeat is looking back.
Smart on the streets. Booked with rap, carved up the beats
but never quite built a presence. Time filled the crevice.
Now marking my dreams as past lives. Flashlights
only make it harder to see as the darkness sparks my deceits.
Lying to friends, trying to find time to make ends.
Studio called me last week. Asked for my card and my key.
Locked out of the game, discarded. The final pretend,
threw my chain off a bridge. Watched it sway in the wind,
but the weight on my neck stayed heavy. Patience is thin.
Career emergency brake. Unnervingly pace
around my studio apartment, imagining the way that it ends.
Paying the rent when your coffers are empty,
after paying for friends to order lobster and Henny.
Burnt up. Burnt out. The latest greatest emcee to disappear.
They say, "It's criminal what the game did to you,"
but who's the victim here?

-

08-23-2014, 07:41 PM	#1
Malachi Negus Join Date: Jan 2013 Posts: 2,529 Battle Record: 5-10 Champed - Newbie Tourney VI Rep Power: 82877410	Champagne (Malachi & Certain) Plat plaques in my grasp, what more of could I ask? Rap on my back and shit aint even spraining my spine Shits reallly been straining on my mind How now Dimes just aimin for my dimes Used to be I couldnt find a quarter of they time to spend but now Prophet got signed like a check and this brown skinned Penny's scent round my pent startin to make sense but fuck it tho... Shit still aint changed Still tryna stay sane or maybe play sane n maintain Still tryna lessen the stressin, countin my blessings but its hard steppin in the Right direction when you Left in depression. Depressing how the press and the media just gettin greedier to catch a nigga slippin, envision me trippin On a mission to see me go missin, but shit it was written so know I dont stiffen nor listen i keep distance from these vultures, fake as sculptures That only speak to wet they beak but was countin sheep when I was beneath my peak but deceit is whats expected for certain Serpents lurk and slither, watching my figures like anorexics urging for me to get withered out the picture They get scissored out it quicker but fuck it tho I aint had shit handed to me but malice MY palms been calloused I practiced my practice and went from Styrofoam to chalice Now departed from apartments I go home to lavish but still cant find room for balance in this palace... ...15 minutes later... Squandered a heap, the hardest defeat is looking back. Smart on the streets. Booked with rap, carved up the beats but never quite built a presence. Time filled the crevice. Now marking my dreams as past lives. Flashlights only make it harder to see as the darkness sparks my deceits. Lying to friends, trying to find time to make ends. Studio called me last week. Asked for my card and my key. Locked out of the game, discarded. The final pretend, threw my chain off a bridge. Watched it sway in the wind, but the weight on my neck stayed heavy. Patience is thin. Career emergency brake. Unnervingly pace around my studio apartment, imagining the way that it ends. Paying the rent when your coffers are empty, after paying for friends to order lobster and Henny. Burnt up. Burnt out. The latest greatest emcee to disappear. They say, "It's criminal what the game did to you," but who's the victim here? - __________________ Seen the spectrum through the prisms