I want to create that Maxwell, Erykah Badu, Common, Tribe Called Quest, Janelle Monae, Seal, Angie Stone, Michael Jackson, Andre 3000, Marsha Ambrosius, Jay-Z, Biggie, Kanye, Tupac, Aaliyah, Lauryn Hill, Chrisette Michele, Alicia Keys, Justin Timberlake, Kendrick Lamar, Lupe Fiasco type shit.

Summer Shantys On the Beach

When was the last time you really felt free.
Life was more to you than the jobs and the grind and working without pause
It was actually just a moment in time…
I miss the once upon a time
that was something sublime.

That water could have drowned us
but it kept me alive
Stops made at the corner store
then a random ass drive
brought us there
to a place that had something like a pier.
Summer shantys in our hand,
we thought we had a plan,
on demand
was a complete distraction of the mind.
Anything we’d talk about
bottles kept passing out,
and we didn’t have to be anywhere
but there.
The world was our beach and it was island everywhere.

It seems like life is just a series of moments you can forget,
but this one moment won’t slip
I dont think I can let
the simple thought of simplicity escape from me so easily.
I run through it like a reel
on the regular, you feel?
It was about seven of us
on a journey of trust
let’s just say that there were a few things to discuss.
And they had nothing to do with reality
but rather
things that would never be.
Can’t you understand why I call that shit free?
And I remember crossing rocks with waves crashing all around us.
that they could never find us…

The one lesson I learned is sometimes you’ve gotta get away
grab a couple shantys,
pretend there’s no tomorrow, no yesterday.
all your worries
just flow
with the flurries.
Take a break from that life of always being in a hurry.
And pounce on a new chance to discover another you.
I just pray you read this and wanna try it too.


Free thought,

expansion, extension, dimension
I want it parts.
Better yet I need to lay claim to that.

Man, I swear if I don’t start I’ll never finish
and that’d be the biggest disappointment.
See, I’ve got caged bird syndrome.
I know I was made to fly.
But three walls seem to keep my lips paused
and you aren’t a mind reader so I haven’t been able to deliver.
If I stepped out, would you hear me out?
Either way, I’m going to get out this potential in my mental if it’s the last thing I do.
I’m so tired of wasting time even more so than making mistakes.
It’s the difference between progress and progress-less.
Have you ever seen a shooting star
Without some steam behind it?
Without some dreams behind it?
The world changes when you fuck shit up.
Shit, it changes when you make shit up.
How about I change the world by making shit up that fucks shit up?
As in the balance.
Be more dynamic with it.
Can you simply imagine the Sistine Chapel in writing?
The Eiffel Tower in a song?
I can build monuments, and mimic God’s work if I work it at.
But I gotta really work, 
be bold,
make strong moves.
Sometimes I just wonder how those people reached infamy. 
Did their mind magically just work that way
did they try and try until magic became habit?
I hope it’s not just the drugs.
But shit, if it is, I might try some.
Head down to the corner
or some field far from federal lines 
and just light it up.
Just so I can write it up.
My Illiad,
My Cleopatra long song,
My New Amerykah.
My story that’s all mine.
All mine.

Thing Unsaid

I refuse to tell you the whole truth
I know I profess to keeping it real but
I promise it’s in my best interest to keep it 90% with you.
I’m interested.
But how deep in I can’t confess.
It hasn’t been long enough to seem obsessed.
Don’t worry though, my head’s on straight
Don’t worry though, my heart’s not on a plate I just
might be making an old mistake where my imagination gets the best.
Rules this,
dreams are ruthless, tests of my resilience
because if I fall, I might hit that ground hard
and that wall, because I wanna give you it all
even though I barely just met you.
I respect you
and even more who I know you’re gonna be.
So all I can tell you right now
that’s 100 percent true
is I hope you don’t forget about me.

I Think I’m a Rapper After Listening to Born Sinner

You said you’d always be my friend and I was starting to believe you

I was happy with that fact even without seeing a me and you
You ok as a homie, ex-lover, friend
I think I understand but those old texts had me wondering
Niggas steady blunderin, and you just changed your mind
Time after time you’re an old squiggly line
You say you wanna see me, never wanna leave me
But I guess you said that just to get something from me
You win, I admit, I made a huge mistake
But guess what, this time, I’m not answering heartbreak
No more, best believe I left that shit at the door.
You less to me than those ugly ass roaches on the floor
But kings can’t see me, rich men either
You think you got a chance to get back
Please, you are neither.