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07 Rapping for Change

accentlyrics on November 26, 2011 17:49

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    Recorded over "Beyond" by Nujabes in 2011. Written in '09 & '11. Engineered/mixed by One Love.

    Rapping for Change

    He’s a sleek saunterer, street wanderer, steep ponderer
    Speech powerful, each honorer reaches down in a
    Deeper pocket for meager profits that keep him stockier
    Instead of pizza maybe this time he can beef & brocc it up
    Heat hot enough, speeding through in a sloppy rush
    Without a beatboxer to bop to, emcee-er shouts to them
    Respect to the beggars but never says ‘please drop some in’
    If ever he were desperate he’d get them to wish he’d rock again
    Your friendly neighborhood hip-hopper that needs to shop for stuff
    That cost him bucks but a lot of that tedious job is luck
    Thus, he never drops his cup or puts it down
    Or piddles when the sniffles come, the kid’ll gun with crooked rounds
    So he pushes sounds around bound to tourist towns
    As is his, after this he’ll hound another crowd
    And bust it proudly whether cloudy or the sun is out
    From the mouth he thrusts it loudly for the ones that’s round
    Something found underground where the yuppies drown
    Pure poetry that goes to sleep for upwards frowns
    Like his city that’s strikingly pretty
    Or hyper kiddies mighty giggly at night with their besties
    He might get busy for ciggies and a couple of pennies
    But he can’t help but wish he’d fill a bigger piggy
    Bank, but thanks though, I needed that…

    Sometimes I just wanna fly away
    And I will never touch the ground
    Maybe I will go to outer space
    And I will never come down

    Nah, never that.
    He’ll just float like kush smoke push from throats
    While he cooks dope-esque hood quotes for “good folks”
    He should go ’cause this sure cold was foretold
    But he’s more broke so he roars notes for pure gold or stoges
    And that warm toke will warn most who mourn ghosts
    But that boy gloats with a hoarse hope
    Sorely spoken, the busker’s own curative potion
    Is pure emotion that touches them with furious devotion
    Wondering what all of them think
    Falls by the brink of destruction, he exalts what he sings
    To a level of impressiveness, their coins become his
    And whatever he expresses then will only be rich
    If, what a concept the lonliest wish
    Which, underlines scripts when longing for it
    Shesh, what the sky’ll do is draw in his chin
    To run a rhyme by slumbered minds and bring awe to these friends
    Single serving, wrinkled curr’ncy are some dollars he gets
    But simply perfect, him deserving never argues against
    Swiftly turning, gently swerving through the horrible mess
    That blends his purpose with a courage that gets bothered at best
    Yes, pair of double crosses guarding his chest
    So he’d say beware of double cross from others (from others)
    Pair of double crosses guarding his chest
    So he’d say beware of double cross from others.

    Sometimes I just wanna fly away
    And I will never touch the ground
    Maybe I will go to outer space
    And I will never come down

    He blends in as part whilst standing out as different.
    He feels the pain of his cohorts and in turn benefits.
    A roaming heart, under only sky, yet home
    Millions of living-mates but he hates being alone
    Free, donuts at dawn, slightly stale and subtly wonderful
    He smiles while he cries, eating. It’s comfortable.
    A loiterer legally relaxing on his porches
    To smoke some of what’s left in his collection of like four or six
    The mornings are hard, everyone’s on their way somewhere,
    Away somewhere or already working in its warming start
    The metal of his coins are hot, palms sweat when he dumps them
    (If only they’d itch) plus some paper bills, something.
    A cardboard sign wielding couple ask politely
    If he could spare a nickel towards their trouble, he denies them
    They hear his wrist wiggle to say he’s trying too, their eyes confused
    Framed so filth’ly, He’s ashamed, no guilty, but he can’t

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