Slipping finally from my

Psyche til′ I find me psycho for a sight of cypress

Sounds of silence signed by hills with sixty-four bikers, bind withBuying burnt bakery goods and lying on couches, learnt

Writing words for pouches beyond boundaries of reciting quotes from

Amount of Kubrick's truest works from foolish niggas gone to rubrics

When I loot this, coolest flows for being fluent in Cartinese

Arteries, help avoid "pardon mes", take newest thrones

Watch it for the Jay and Ye′ like Truman Show to Carter 3

Wayne's World, grab the mic, flying-by when I started these

My own poems those stained words used to be hard for me

To try and think of ways to burn on rhythms with written blurbs

Turn from stern face but back to Phineas and Ferb, you kidding

To I turned back to being a kid, I had learn to bridge

Connections to my letters thanks to bFM, you heard right

I'm writing on that nine-to-five til′ I hear them birds flight, these words

Tight enough to have them building booming in these worst nights of

Being cursed, tired and thinking it was that first time of

Metro to curb myself when beats to paper and tryna burst, I′m tryna

Find and learn to write a verse and tryna find the purpose to write

Look, cos' when I′m tryna

Find the compass it will always need to come with purpose

Word to Tribe: "Thank you for your service"

Thankful for my

Birth wish, refurbishing wasn't certain for the curtains of my

Eye balls cos′ I'm personally feeling sleepy, hope that I fall on the

Mattress when I′m rapping for I'm grappling the batch of static niggas

While I'm actually battling with mad menaces, was I really meant for

Being fit for bad temperament, temperature rising when for

Chasing mazes of afro-centred amazing raps, wrapping up these

Filetted sentences, i′m bent up with these lazy naps, days been

Trapped with bedrooms; Jay-Z bumping in the back with pastry puffings

In my lap, I′m staying comfy with a stack of blueprints in their

Pack, I'm packed of boom baps for backpack teen to turn backpack

Rapper, you gon′ pass that batter, it's batter-up to all these

Bastards with no backup but a batch of weak bladders, leaking

Past their pants, atcha hoe, afro growing past the toes

Grabbing knowledge each day, spitting more shit than a cat should know

Hope they ain′t gon' flag the video, hope they wit′ it bro

Cos we still ridin' on shit

Cos when I'm tryna

Find the compass it will always need to come with purpose

Word to Tribe: "Thank you for your service"

Cos′ when I′m tryna

Find the compass it will always need to come with purpose

Word to Tribe: "Thank you for your service"

When I'm tryna

Find the compass it will always need to come with purpose

Word to Tribe: "Thank you for your service"

Cos′ when I'm tryna

Find the compass it will always need to come with purpose

Word to Tribe

I can tell you that my

Parents needed the space since 2001, dawn was an odyssey

No sun shining or clock working, past orange skies were bothering these

Full times, hard as metal; the crumpled jackets that were on to me

My eyes wide shut to strange happenings I still ain′t used to honestly

Brings me back when I was twelve on campus Danny's Atrocity

Exhibition captures me with love for pads and apostrophes

I got to breathe, give me chance, I gots to see a

Monumental moment for the mother I hope to honour, she gon′

See well front-to-back, the massive metropolis monthly, must for breeze

Machine on-screen, the man for means came a long way from a fucked-up teen

Fun gone pre-days, I see braised ways for puffer cheese

Something for another green pay, no attention to the

Tougher dreams, rough around the scene of red and green from the traffic

Attics of the temple sway from statics we go at it with

Illmatic, ill we mad shit on a state of mind for rapping

Thanks to my people who had fought for dreams to happen