The boom the bap
The snare the clap
Snap his fingers and tap his feet
The melody his breath and bass his heart beat
He would exhale sixteens and inhale truth
The asthmatic type, his inhaler was the booth
In time He would no longer write rhymes
Just open his mouth for the beautiful struggle to come out
And struggle He knew and proclaimed victory with pretension
He owed his life to divine intervention
But don’t mention the past He presses on to glory
Says my past wasn’t to bright so i look to what’s before me
Fast forward a couple years He’s about to preform on stage
In America he’s dope and in London He’s all the rage
Seems like a dream cause every seam in this scene bursts in ways He’d never seen
With a simple pinch to confirm He was really here
He stepped back took off his headphones hoping to hear
From the king to which He owes all this
Took him into the light from the dark abyss
Hung a quick prayer before he stepped in the light
Lord be with me and let me rock this mic right
He stepped on stage, the crowd deafening his ears
But the sound was so beautiful he could listen for years
The familiar taste of tears began to wet his lips
But these were tears of joy tears of freedom and bliss
