Yeah, yeah
Uh yeah, yeah
Look
They wanna know my mic game, it’s ’98, Game 6
Wealthy soul, they wanna know how I’m happy but ain’t rich
Tried to test me, lied as a youngin and I ain’t b#tch
Realized this whole game an illusion, ain’t been the same since
Ain’t many enemies worse than impatience
Vain princes sit upon thrones made of vagueness
Me? My effect directed a young Sway
My effect, director, a Scorse
They pose, oughta be themselves, yeah they Jorge
New York kid, they watch me from oy veys to
Cats get a little bit and just do what the coin say
I’m invested in myself, win or lose, that boy play
Try to be humble, I feel like an antithesis
Somethin’ like a West Hollywood breast
I bottle the stress, then learn to let it pour on the page or on the stage
Never knew how important my stains
Probably have to sell a million records ‘fore I’m embraced by the cool table
And by that time it be boring and fake
Do you know what it’s like to have morals these days?
It’s hard to believe in karma and rewards seem in vain
But I suppose the prose alone is in itself the destination
I am the excavation, the soul of a restless nation
Composed of every one of your woes and hesitations
Saw the script and I burned it, the smoke rose from the bas#ment
So whatever my lineage or rank that they fit me in
Bury me a city kid, product of the sh#t we live
Try to try to live to give, think I might succeed it
Just don’t let the ones who’s hollow critique it, say I’m a genius
Call ’em on their b#llsh#t in the spirit of Craft
Even wise men walk in circles when they clearing a path
And may those who felt the love outnumber vast those
Who had to get near to the wrath and steer clear of the trash
I almost lost faith
I swear I almost faith
But that’s what every bar face
f#ck your lil’ bizarre takes
Homie, look at Marl pace
Even when I’m off-base
I ain’t runnin’ yall race
No, no, no, no, no
Yeah
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Marlon Craft Lyrics – Lost Faith