Let It Fly

The first time I opened this note, I wrote nothing. Picking up the pen to play my cards, there’s no bluffing. Two weeks since I opened the app. Two Three left a note on a cap, that I’ma use to keep me focused in rap. Been sitting on a couple tapes I hope you play til they pop. Never Fold, I wrote this on the day of the drop. I’ve forgotten so many lines I said I’d have to remember. But I know I’m approaching the month that’s after September. It’s spooky season. Wrote that rhyme before I knew the reason. So deep in my own head I wrote what you were thinking. These are just a couple random thoughts but it’d be cool to link em. One game at a time, we don’t get to choose our season. I know mine’s coming. Like I ordered a clock, I know my time’s coming. I continue to shuffle through lines and just hope I find something. Mind numbing. Lately I’ve been feeling the pain. I’ve been battling depression, but the feeling is strange. It’s almost like the stress I feel is healing my brain. Converting my art-to-facts, to show I’m here to remain.


I talked to God a lot today, but didn’t pray enough. The last time I wrote a verse, I didn’t say enough. (Feels like that every time. It’s just a clever rhyme. Sling a couple bars, this is nothing more than petty crime.) (I open leveed minds. They be like “oh he isn’t playing” as they press rewind)


I wrote this verse in Central Park. This picture didn’t have a stenciled start. The scribe who scribbled til he left his mark. I’ve just gotta find the words first. To piece together as the birds chirp. A cleverly absurd search. I lead the way just like a horse & carriage. Ensure I never see my thoughts disparaged. Goal is to divorce the marriage-

Between the doubts and my abilities. Stuck in my head and it’s been killing me. I’ve gotta set my lyrics free.

Feel like my life is at a cross roads. I look both ways before I toss blows, punchlines like Morse code. So much I’ve written from the heart and stashed it. Chasing commas off these dots and dashes. Get it then I’ll start to stack it. Jotted this down to pass the time, I pray I start to catch it. One day I might drop a classic.


Started up a verse that was as perfect as it had to be. Striving for the day my words are worth another salary. Caught between my head and my heart and she might be mad at me. God’s a great artist, my life’s becoming a masterpiece. ~With a rhythm so unorthodox. The way that I be taking ankles, they should call the cops. I shoot my shot so high they waiting for the ball to drop. Couple times the ball was blocked, never meant the boy was stopped. I’m only gon keep on rising, because I’m called to God. And every day we stay connected cause the calling’s strong. My parents raised me well, so I know right from wrong. And any time the stage is set you know I might perform. More of a definite, sort of a perfectionist. In knowing striving for the best you is what perfection is.


You might feel like you can guard me, probably isn’t that safe. Pretty tough cover and a problem on the fast break. Starting up my engines, I just had to fill my gas tank. Titan with the pen, life’s a movie and the cast sank

-into this new reality where everyone is proud of me, the ones I love who care to help the most can get a salary. Boutta pick the pen back up, appear in other nations. I gotta run it up and send my parents on vacation. I set a goal, then I can’t wait to go get it. Not really chasing fame, just know the paper comes with it.

I’m down and out. Got plenty to frown about. My mind’s perpetual motion while stuck in a roundabout. Sometimes can’t seem to read how I feel so I sound it out. I put the pen to the paper and you hear the sounds aloud. Tapped so deeply into myself that I found the crowd.


I guess I’ll just write the first note that pops into my head. Annoyed cause I made a sandwich and forgot to toast the bread. Don’t know if I can explain it, that’s just kinda how life feels. But I’m on the brink of balling out and signing a nice deal. This chapter is stressful because right now I don’t feel half as successful. The past is irreparable. I’m focused on the path that I step to.

I wrote this as we got to the airport, is it another verse? I shoot my shot and pray to Jesus that it Shuttlesworths. More game than I wish I had. I’m praying this picture lasts. Having talks with God and I’m running the scriptures back. Every word I write brings me more relief than a pitching staff. I keep knocking verses out the park, it’s like they pitching bad. Mommy is an icon, thank God I don’t have a different dad. Shane and I are great, we couldn’t reach it by ourselves. So I’m glad we didn’t grow up raised by anybody else.

Took inventory of my luggage, had to scale it back. Had a talk with my heart, she told me I’m here to rap. I can’t ignore the gift. Got plenty more to get. Constantly working on myself, this is how I endure the shift. I wrote this over two months, I guess I needed a second. We’re about to Takeoff, Rest In Peace to a legend.

1 comment

  • Bravo! Bravo!!!! Excellence as per usual🥹🥹


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