My rhyme is words intertwined weird like a blue stop sign from petty theft to high crimes new guns old mags like high times you gotta get yours I gotta get mines I gotta get minds like brain surgeon far from pussy but my like a pretty ebony squirting but your rhymes sound like you soul searching like you filling a void that’s it’s all about violence cause you annoyed in mental misery emancipate your mind let your spirit be free Black Lives Matter white lies matter who told the most lies revolution televised on social media as corporate minds get greedier keeping your wisdom and knowledge of self health I’m already black so I’m born for stealth black don’t crack and under pressure we won’t melt you hung us up I’m hearing your burnt alive I’m hearing but you not ready for what the spirit do it’s even in our music this war is spiritual