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about
Produced by Jack Bandit
lyrics
/Hello doll, yeah you of the porcelain ilk/ The silver tongued fox supporting my ills/Ignoring the stills, frames of fright and flight/As I ignite my plight, another passage of rite/ The song I crow, another row of oats/ I’ve sewn and must forcibly chew, ignoring that you/ Must endure, but selfishly I skew/ My view to find my self once anew/And again without end/To no measure to your displeasure/ As you search for some way to tether/ Our emotions just a tad bit closer/ Put your head down and continue to soldier/Like I’m your cross to bare/ ‘Till I’m back sauced up and bare/ You tear up, at a loss to share/ Hold me, as if to exhaust my fear/ So I walk to the sink for a splash of reality/ Words ringing true, forgettable a formality/
/Ask for assurance, I bring disturbance/ Seems that it’s worthless, not worth the purchase/ Emotions converging, lookin for service/ I’m barred up again, so the pot you are stirring/ I explained the baggage, then you claimed without asking/ Prone to relapsing, I told you it’s tasking/ Out of control, lacking the traction/ You smiled as if that was the attraction/ Now you proclaim your strength I am sapping/ Once my guard, now left me open to tackling/ Weary of all the love that I ration/ Fearing, the trap door is collapsing/Told me it’s now or never for action/ I laugh and lay prone, whatever, your yappin/ Say that mechanism is sad and I’m passive/ Tried callin bluff, now my chips she will cash in/
/ I’m picking thru verses, she’s steadily cursing/ Finds my bottle after an of hour searching/ Says if this works, then where’s focus on me/ As I study sixteens, I’m hopin she leaves/ Says I never sleep, so how can I dream/ Clouded my means and shrouded my schemes/ Can’t vocalize love, so I express it through ink/ Poems in patois that I’m hoping’ll sink/ Into her conscious, reassure her the promise/ Of commitment made that I intended as honest/ It’s not the drugs, it’s shield I clutch/ That keeps her at bay, and holds me up like a crutch/ Locked in the bathroom, reciting a prayer/ She learned as a child, to keep away all her fear/ Recall a song she wrote, a few weeks back/ Somber the tone, sent a chill up my back, it said/
credits
from The Muta Scale,
released May 9, 2011
T. Crocker, Jr., J. Poole
An honest, polite, riveting emcee that's smart, earnest, and at times sarcastic. Listening to Ghani, you'll wonder to yourself if he really means it or if he's just punking you. Highly recommended. Crocker