I take this sickness and turn it into sick sh*t

I take my sickness and turn it into sick spit

That ill sh*t

My mind was in need of nurturing tired and worn down this ground shift in my stance a chance to turn it around

When the body reeks havoc a speech of sheer madness could turn into a death trap so run past it

I'm gunnin' runnin' for the door to exit a point in time, whatever you call a stand still in a book of rhymes

I call it life man you should choose the right plan, I'll live a life span in front if mic stands

So if i don't keep a level mind an unhealthy state of rhymes could lead to rebel lies to self

Off the shelf, i wipe the dust from my mind's pages empty spaces i fill in with pencil drawn faces

To document the different moods and occurrences they hint to me these pictures move where assurance lives

So i draw the nourishment fruits of the purest sh*t and keep the styles up to date and keep moving it

Made a few trips, through where the truth lives back to the roots an old dog learning old tricks

New bits and pieces to fuel the heeling process i only hear the word of others void the lost message

I stay zoned locked up inside my koo koo's nest but never slip up when doing what I do best

Smooth rhythmically script writer speaking in code wizardry meaning a flow blizzard breeze winds in simplicity

Then transmit it over drums and bass lines spit it for a minute you get it it's too late i'm climbing up this ladder

Leaving behind what isn't needed i take a breather, crank the speakers let the pen bleed it out

Over pages, blank sheets, the canvas is never out-dated i create what's passionate

Turning these, otherwise routine, thoughts that visualize painting pictures like tableaus on infinite skies

Chillin' on cloud nine while filling on proud wine a state of drunkenness pumpin' this with a loud mind

I get inside the beat and rip it from the heart of it keeping the blood boiling through your veins like an arsonists