Don’t mean to be bursting your bubble
But you’re not the first in the hustle
Your personal struggles, the work and the bustle
That’s hurting your muscles ain’t worse than the troubles
Of anyone else, be glad you got plenty of health
Know that you can fend for yourself
And in all your writing, remember to help
Those in need, ‘cause
My writing’s what my demons can’t penetrate, no
Write so much they’re deeming my pen a trait
I’ve been tryna demonstrate how to get your demons straight
I’ve still got redeeming traits
My writing’s what my demons can’t penetrate, no
Write so much they’re deeming my pen a trait
I’ve been tryna demonstrate how to get your demons straight
I’ve still got redeeming traits
I made this beat on my phone
Freshman year of college
In the student lounge at 4AM
Back then, I was part of KCSB
With my own radio show for AM
It was all about lyrical music
Especially hip-hop, since I made my foray into rap
But I did it out of passion
Never for the money, no, I ain’t looking for a M
But it’d be cool to have a gold record
Just sayin’ I could use the touch of Midas well
My might is swell
Oh, you listened to my diss? Well
My ego might’ve swelled
But I might as well
Embrace it, I got a girl that’s really fine
I read the fine print, and I redefine
The art form, if I don’t have a single reader, fine
I’ll refine my writing so they read and find that
My writing’s what my demons can’t penetrate, no
Write so much they’re deeming my pen a trait
I’ve been tryna demonstrate
How to get your demons straight
I’ve still got redeeming traits
My writing’s what my demons can’t penetrate, no
Write so much they’re deeming my pen a trait
I’ve been tryna demonstrate
How to get your demons straight
I’ve still got redeeming traits
I see in your cup is elixir, yup
You getting high like a mezzanine?
Using liquor just as fixer upper
You put the dying in remedying
I don’t mix syrup with anything
I’m blowing up, I’m grenade-ing
Turn my vocals in the mixer up
I only mix syrup if it’s grenadine in a Shirley Temple
Surely my temples could use a massage
The Shure is my temple, the music is God
Ensuring the tempo’s a groove you can nod to
Assuring the tentative peeps if
I fail an attempt, repeat it
Without losing my temper, I’m Tempur-Pedic
With the memory, bouncing back better than
Memory foam, oh
Hear me spitting now, and you get immediate
Fear of missing out, FOMO
Lyricism wows, I just spit 40 bars
I’m in need of like 4 mo’
But it’s no problem, top tier precision
When I’m poem jotting, I’m sincerely driven
Pounding ears with rhythm, sound is near religion
Found the spirits’ wisdom, loud and clear, I listen close
My writing’s what my demons can’t penetrate
Write so much they’re deeming my pen a trait
I’ve been tryna demonstrate
How to get your demons straight
I’ve still got redeeming traits
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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