|
[Verse 1: Othello] |
|
My spiral notebook is a tool to compose |
|
The translations of my heart and influence of the soul |
|
My Power Source allows me not to have a typical flow |
|
Innovate, create and reach beyond the typical goals |
|
Following trends have never seemed to be my steelo |
|
Switch it up, three for the money, four for the show |
|
Mad original, and from the time the track begins and ends I'm hoping and praying |
|
That you've been inspired to go higher then the limitations |
|
Of shackles and chains, amazing how change is available |
|
To anyone who makes an honest attempt |
|
Exempt to no man, oh man, I was like, yo man |
|
I find it ironic how all the times I flunked within the book I found the answers |
|
To the problems, now me and the Author is tight |
|
I rock the mic and He writes my rhymes |
|
We make a good team don't you agree |
|
Christ plus Othello equals emcee |
|
[Chorus] |
|
Methodical styles I flip |
|
Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped |
|
From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped |
|
But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") |
|
[Verse 2: Page One] |
|
These false emcees will do backflips to stack chips, but never stay true to their craft |
|
That's how I separate wheat from the chaff |
|
I bomb like graf, super raw style for the new millennium |
|
Got mad styles on file, but the mind is the Pentium |
|
Processing data, it don't matter who got the phattest click |
|
It all depends upon what you use to measure my status with |
|
And that it's fit to be used, I see through crews who |
|
Only concerned with who's who, not paying dues |
|
But you couldn't walk a mile in my shoes without stumblin |
|
Fumblin, now your whole foundation is crumblin |
|
You tried to salvage, performing mental cryogenics |
|
But defile the mic one time and it's sweet dreams like Annie Lennox |
|
[Verse 3: Othello] |
|
We're putting bits and pieces together like clouds and rainy weather |
|
My finished product makes me wonder if its really real |
|
I'm seeking for a place to rest my head and paint a picture |
|
Peacefully abide in Christ, bright and happy days |
|
Warm colors of hazel sunrays cater to daydreamings and mental replays |
|
Of clear and distinct unforgettables |
|
Accompanied by a few pivotal moments, elements of joy components |
|
Make me see past all my opponents |
|
Home alone in perfect peace, stable and meek |
|
Meditate and daze away when thoughts become complete |
|
Seeking to find and bust divine rhymes and smile with white teeth |
|
I'm in my own little world (say what you do at night) I sleep |
|
[Chorus] |
|
Methodical styles I flip |
|
Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped |
|
From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped |
|
But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") |
|
[Verse 4: Page One] |
|
We're droppin gems cut with many facets, the passage of time |
|
Can blur the line between the subliminal and sublime |
|
But sometimes I lie awake nights, mentally take flights |
|
Back to the days before greed poisoned hip hop like snakebites |
|
How can I take it back to the essence and still be progressive |
|
How can I dispense this freely and still be possessive |
|
How can I stay meek and humble and still be aggressive |
|
How can I achieve harmony and still be obsessive |
|
These are the types of near-impossible, paradoxical obstacles |
|
That put lesser emcees in mental hospitals |
|
Consider myself a cat that's equal to the task |
|
Dangerous behind the mic, a havoc wreaker to the last |
|
Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast |
|
Express joy or sorrow, but you'd rather wallow in your averageness |
|
Decked in lavish dress, but lyrically can't pass the test |
|
Who laughs the best when this culture dies a tragic death |
|
[Chorus] |
|
Methodical styles I flip |
|
Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped |
|
From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped |
|
But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") |