License to Quill

Through the iris of a tyrant comes images of art

The division of the soul and writing is a start

Bowl of the wisdom is poured into the hearts

The motherland was starved and traded for its parts

The ink of the quill to the quivering of bars

Concealing the skills from the shivering of sharks

Blood in the hills with a mentality of sparks

Out lays a poet overlooking the duality of arts

Then what sprouts feels divinely in-part

Mindlessly wiggling through the sentences of darts

Kindness is sizzling over the pan of broken plans

The pen was at rest, the quill remained in place

Into the hand of the pharaoh who glances at the lame

Finishing his page while diminishing his own rage

Bottled up sorrows are borrowed and feel a cage

An alliance that controls science through us literary slaves

 

Ink is my blood, words are my bubs

The cup is filled with lies from the scrubs

The world is corrupt, dying over lust

Kalligraphy is the only brother you should trust

 

Calligraphy in the lexicons brought from the quill

Was in the hands of kings, then lost them to the fields

The same ink was worded to write Shakespeare feels

Make me peel of the brink of my imagination

The rapping game was opaque with stagnation

Now we celebrating with the weight of the matrix

Rake in the safest place to write words and paste it

Explore our own thoughts and make the bar be raised with

Our own knowledge of the universe and scripts

Yahweh writing this music through the angels I’m used with

 

Ink is my blood, words are my bubs

The cup is filled with lies from the scrubs

The world is corrupt, dying over lust

Kalligraphy is the only brother you should trust

 

Into the hands of Nat King to Cole to Jay Z

To the Y2K stream of unreleased screens

The plasma dreams where our own plasma leaks

Bleed from the knees from the needle pinching me

I fall to my feet and then I hope on the steeple to speak

Preach what I practice and often always teach

Then write down my life and define all my tweaks

In the spite of now, I bet the ink is almost out

How many verses or layers can come right out

How many poems can splurge on out

How many more curses can this quill write about

So much Love in the grill of the snout

Real deals to gain clout are spilled onto the couch

I’d say to myself to be selfish and keep it

But I can’t stop the dreamers from dreaming it

Might as well just make more lyrics you never heard of

Bobby Shmurdaring anyone aiming to curse ya

Specific Strokes of the pen can change a whole lane

The alphabet was invented to make change

That’s how I see how the table was set

Doesn’t affect me in the slightest, I’d make that bet

That I gain cheques from writing all my best

 

Ink is my blood, words are my bubs

The cup is filled with lies from the scrubs

The world is corrupt, dying over lust

Kalligraphy is the only brother you should trust

 

2020s with a 20/20 vision of my peers

I know most of them gonna tumble this year

Cause a rumble and the scene crumbles form tears

Cuz I’m here, they don’t like it when they see a fear

So they smear their disses draped in fake cashmere

The quill is just laughing at their faces and actions

Smacking my face hard because of notes and captions

Capping in their fractions, missing real traction

This the extra mile I take from you Harry Styles

From the hands of Genesis to gathering it form the Nile

Across the river into the tribes of broken smiles

Shipped to America where the words trapped in vials

I go that extra mile to prove I’m the lyrical rifle

I don’t gotta sugarcoat or overthink my thoughts

Cuz what I’m cut from is washing from Jesus cloth

Ink into the fire, I’m never gonna retire

It’s K hyphen Y, bring back the good attire

Yall be so corny then say it’s satire

I know my quill will never cause a fire I can’t put out

So there’s where I get my desire, channeling energy from above the clouds