A complacent pen tends to vent the weakest
Try not to bang my chest [?]
Instead of pretending you don’t see it, try infested weakness
Tripping stealth and I’m upset because I bent my sneakers
This is my melancholy spit [?] gentrified Jesus
Please just let the people inherit their freedom in peace
We’ll be sharing in the final feast with felons, fools and all of the othеr evil deceasеd
The devil’s nothing but a needle to me
Never let satan be seen in my seat
Try not to take for granted the privilege God granted, cleaning my feet, being fed by my mother
Thank God with every letter I utter
May fall, stumble, nervously let out a stutter
But never less than [cunning?] when it’s time to press record
Confessing flaws, cutting corners, never [?]
Try my best not to be forgotten when it’s said and all done
Though it’s mess it come from, let it fall off my tongue
Pray for a better off environment for my son or daughter
Fortunate enough to never have been driven by a hungry thought or drink some muddy water
Still the pain talk
Complain of what I’m made of
No, it’s enough
It’s enough, it’s enough
So I’m doing with the pen what God gave it to do
Spit a fable or two
If this rapping weren’t [?], may I go out as faithful and faceless as Doom
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TOM (emcee from Australia) Lyrics – 27/08