Poetry is how I cry Lyrics are what I bleed A pen a pad is what I need. Feelings I share with the world My love for life pours on paper If you don''t recognize now I know you will later. I''m open to all music. Journey or o let''s do it. Bump it all cause I have a Passion for music. Ever since I wass a boy. I never wanted a toy. All I needed was a pen to enjoy. A yellow boy. Who talks noise. That was my label but luckily I. Was capable. To hold my self. Pull up my pants tighten my belt. And beat a nigga to hell. I''ve been in and out of a cell but through it all I remained well.
I''ll never stop believing Or never stop achieving My goals. Not even when I''m 60 years old. My mind to me is 6 carrot gold. My emotions are not hidden There just buried on this pad. The happy the sad.. The mad the glad.. The laughter and joy. The pain and hurtful noise. I express them this way. Not by force but choice.
I strive to be a better man then set out to be. I''ll never be what I''m destined to be. But what I see. Better then my family. Ill be a better father then I had. I''ll hold my so ns head up when he''s sad. And kiss his forehead when he''s glad. Hell never see his grandpa and that alone will keep me glad. He wont corrupt my sons mind. Because I won''t give him the time. I''ll be to busy watching my son shine. Because just like me without him hell be fine.