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Who: skepoet
what: A lyrical poet
where: Brooklyn / Staten island
when: November 17, 2005
Why: For a border view of my lyrics, into different eyes besides mine..
Song Info
Genre
Charts
#128,448 today
Peak #8,028
#79,450 in subgenre
Peak #4,464
Uploaded
December 14, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.2 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
First 16:
they forced my hands under the fire/
let my flesh burn just to see my true colors/
my stomachs hunger/
commin out my mouth like throw up/
with a rope tied to my neck holdin myself up/
stitches sowed on my skin coverin this blood on my heart/
I bled to breath, took a breath, the rest yah can see/
took the milk out my moms breast, so I can feed/
with this weaponry, redirectin the directions for me/
I dress to please, respect my gangsta until I rest in piece/
the rest I can reach, if I put my mind to it/
im one blink of an eye away from the image of violence/
but I havent shut my eyes since, coincidence?
im emptin out wells so I can feel the wishes yah dream/
but see that its only change in my hands/
like I was a changed man, chained to the bricks/
like it cant rain, if its paint painted in plain shit/
pace this, my life is payin for pain to exist/
prayers aint been the same cause they aint mean shit/
an as god as my witness, hold yah self so yah can feel this/
cause me, I dont carry my wings/
cause the halo above my head dont really match with em/
an while im in the position, im pawnin my halo for admission/
for at least a nice whip, a chain, or some bitches/
thats kinda like my life, always braggin about my wishes/
Second 16:
I cant figure myself out or my soul/
I cant figure out the way I act sometimes at all/
I cant reach in me an pull out these fuckin thoughts/
im not real sometimes but please hear me off/
I try to act different, for the reason is acceptance/
im tryin to accept this, myself/
but its just hard, just to believe in myself/
sometimes I read dreams to myself/
same scenes tryin to reach in my self/
in a cell as deep as it seems, tryin to get out this hell/
it aint the struggle, the projects, or the hustle/
its my own view mirrored back into this view/
with the same look, same brown eyes, same bushy eyebrows/
always stressin pussy tryin to hide out/
thats why I cant rest fully, cause they aint no time outs/
I aint ready for time to be out, really/
cause I will speak forward an let the truth out my mouth/
even if it hurt, thats why I cant really figure myself out?
why am I tryin to hurt others just to ease my own pain/
or is it the rain commin down my eyes tryin to change/
im to quick to age, just stay a boy until I learn to behave/
learn to speak with my voice an then earn my grays/
wrinkle my thoughts so my mind can relate/
I love you xaviar. 1
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