welcome to life…   this is all there is, how will you live?   shine bright with the lights or fade with the music?   cut frays from the loose ends, amends with enemies   sail the seven seas and assume new identities?   produce the remedy, capture it in a flask   grasp the glass in your hand, drink it back fast   past your lips, right over your tongue   let it rush down your throat, let it soak in your blood   it’ll open you up to new aspects of madness   if you have that passion to establish a habit   practice magic granted with a pen and a pad   raid medicine cabinets then head back to the lab   with a packet of raps, single bars and ideas   try to carve art out of dreams and nightmares   cut out the canvas til the view is panoramic   360 degrees, into English from Sanskrit   mics up, lights up when I bust my stuff   eyes shut, I write stuff guys love like Fight Club      this is not market target audience pop   or rap that’s money girls ice and rocks   stuff has to stop, it’s hip hop’s monotony   as I bring the rock like Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery      I jotted it down, getting this off the ground   you got shot in the mouth but what are you talking about?   catastrophe is happening, it’s upon us now   my heart’s dark with thoughts of problems I’ve found   it’s 2pacalypse now, where’s Chris Wallace now?   their vision is missing in this monotonous sound   lost but it’s found, now the message is back   intelligent rap, packed like breakfast at Stacks   carry cavalry, weapons is pen and a pad   snakes can’t rattle me, I spit this venomous rap    with sentences that help replenish the craft   the way that it is is the way I’m telling it as   I’m dwelling on pasts, pretend I’m having a blast   naw, scratch that last rap, send it back to the lab   all the attention I have, time to focus it here   breathe in deep, get my head open and clear   grab the pen, grit the teeth, write the rap, get it hot   it’s happening, this is me, mic in hand, I never stop      tell the wizard to come out of his curtain   you and your songs are not the same person   we’re tired of these, attempts at deception   contrived and conceived, impress with your message      I jotted it down, getting this off the ground   you got shot in the mouth but what are you talking about?   catastrophe is happening, it’s upon us now   my heart’s dark with thoughts of problems I’ve found   it’s 2pacalypse now, where’s Chris Wallace now?   their vision is missing in this monotonous sound   lost but it’s found, now the message is back   intelligent rap, packed like breakfast at Stacks   carry cavalry, weapons is pen and a pad   snakes can’t rattle me, I spit this venomous rap    with sentences that help replenish the craft   the way that it is is the way I’m telling it as   I’m dwelling on pasts, pretend I’m having a blast   naw, scratch that last rap, send it back to the lab   all the attention I have, time to focus it here   breathe in deep, get my head open and clear   grab the pen, grit the teeth, write the rap, get it hot   it’s happening, this is me, mic in hand, I never stop      tell the wizard to come out of his curtain   you and your songs are not the same person   we’re tired of these, attempts at deception   contrived and conceived, impress with your message      some see rap as a chance to cash in   with their standard, stand-up, throw your hands up anthems   formulas and fashions, iPods in action   imagine relaxing with my song blasting    battles aren’t wars but I use Che’s tactics   my passion’s unfathomed like Catholics on acid   did that catch your eye like Passion of the Christ?   cos I’m going this alone just like Catcher in the Rye   tap into your mind, reaching for the deepest pieces   I’m the type of guy who thinks in rhyme but do you think with reason?   on the brink of genius, trying to outdrink collegiates    with reasons egregious that you choose to agree with   like preacher believers, your logic is flawed   there’s no freedom at all without due process of law   this is moshpit raw, I write down and raise eyebrows   there’s a felon in the White House searching third world hideouts   the archetype sound that leads new movements   music produced with two fists and a blueprint   the Crystal kid is ripping it, adrenaline is kicking in    his energy’s ridiculous, think Icarus on Ritalin    don’t stick on little things, your boy is poised and on topic   sort points from the context like coins in your pocket   so much noise in the nonsense, perfect change is uncommon   clean breaks take place in bungee cords and condoms   so do you follow your calling or best dollar options?   from cradles to coffins, we’re raised while we’re falling   close your eyes, hold your breath, grab the sheets, tense up tight   open wide, you overslept, it’s not a dream, this is life      turn the lights up