Now who you know leave the scene
Messier than canvas's by Jackson Pollock
Throwing multicolored
thoughts at a rapid pace
I make a mess you dissect it
and make sense of it
Then get back to me
at your earliest convenience
Check my verbal sequence as
I texturize these tracks
Seven layers to be exact
eliminate the whack
With a firm brush stroke I mc paintily
Lyricists begin crumbling
from my scumbling technique
As I tweak your audio and visual
keep my drips minimal
messages subliminal
Cause me and rap go
way back we compliment
So together we enhance one another
that's common sense
High intensity catches the eye your jaw drops
Be a real critic not explicit with false props
I keep my darks deep my lights bright
I'm very thorough
With my churascurro inspiration
spark and a knife
Now watch me rock the spot like
Basquiat minus the heroin
And make my face popular like
Andy did to Marilyn
Its kinda scary when real art gets left behind
While they take bullshit and
start selling it to blind folks
But I remain humble as long as
Grace continues spinning hot shit
On his twin twelve hundred
color wheels of steel
Fuck mass appeal art is artonly
the real can truly feel it
So open your eyes and listen
Combine your ears with vision
Or do it cause you love it
Or for cash that's your decision
That's your decision
That's your decision
It's like I'm torn between two worlds
A paintbrush and a microphone
A canvas or a beat
CD or LP
Anything goes when my ink pen flows
And God only knows where
its gonna bring me next
So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes
and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye closed
And I suppose if you chose
the path that I chose
You know the cycle ass ho don't front
It goes inspiration and productivity
then a sense of self worth
and in steps depression
Like back and forth and forth and back
Should I paint a picture or record a track
A gift or a curse I don't know
I'm still undecided
But over the years I've found
clever ways to hide it
And those that lack the passion
I have may despise it
But my momma made me this way
I thank her everyday
So tell them kids to keep
coloring outside the lines
Until they lose they limitations
and they minds is free
Tell them teachers that you want
your money back this time
And tell Bob Ross for
all the happy little trees
And tell my momma that her
baby boy is doing just fine
Although hes running out
of patience but his mind is free
And tell my pops that I'll pay
his money back sometime
And that his son is two steps
away from where he needs to be