if it weren’t for writing, i don’t know where i’d be
honestly, you’d probably find me in therapy
sitting in a chair, pulling out my hair
while the doctors just stare and see
looking at me in disbelief
you’d better be aware because apparently
word has it i need prayer and i’m too carefree
to be fair even my darkest thoughts be scaring me
see im just 24 in my prime, i got no rhyme or reason
but i got a reason to rhyme
and my limit is infinite, so even at my peak i keep a reason to climb
cause seeded inside, deep in my mind
there lies the keys to a shrine
and like a junkie with a busted nose, i’m bout to bleed in these lines
i keep the ink pouring out my heart and it’s departin’ through all my arteries
this artistry started in my soul, so i guess you could say it’s a part of me
honor these words i speak
’cause this isn’t rap this is poetry
i’m holding it close to me
and molding this craft like i’m making pottery
will i make it to the top? probably
i know carter’s watching me
i see you came back for more, you need my words in bigger quantities
when it come to my work, the people got larger needs
it’s a perk of being me, feel like i won the fuckin lottery
i got the spark, but they put it on lock before they even chargin me
come to think of it i should really charge a fee
and make it harder to see
that the mastermind sitting behind all these barz is me