What Happened…

I remember when I first started, the works hardest
With no pad, no pen, no studio, how am I an artist
Started because I was bored, always felt ignored
Never knew my talent could open so many doors
First rhyme since I changed common to rhyme sense
Because my sights best when ever the fights next
Yet all this depends on what your mind pretends
Because what I come with is mightier than the pen
When I go I lose control like a plane with no pilot
The demand for flow makes this show often recited
Careers sighted, this is more than just a lame habit
It’s drastic how much rapping can make me an addict

What Happens…

Skip a few years, drink a few beers and move to wine
This is the last time I attend a record release party of mine
Why do I bother to spit these rhymes, yes the paycheck
I wish me and the stage never met, I often try and forget
The paper, the groupies, the beat makers, the movies
The mix tapes that spread like a disease, my first CD’s

What Will Happen…

State of euphoria, I regained the love for the game
The change I overcame, I have never felt the same
There is no more hesitation in my decisions
No more beads of perspiration in my vision
I devour scriptures to advance my word choice
Committed to change something with my voice
It’s all for the love, I’d rather barter than greed
Read what you sign, last advice you will ever need

If you started doing it for love…then it went to cash…
Get you special miseducation… And go back to the past...