The Reaper's Hood

Ayo, I got a beautiful mind, man
For real
Give me my roses while I’m here
I done see shit so differently, man
It’s like
It’s like I can picture everything
Every word in my head, I picture it
Several bullet wounds on these hooded goons
You could assume it’s the type of product you cooked in spoons
I took the fumes so every drug that they would consume
When opportunity knocked, it came in and shook the room
Why do I speak so vividly on these crooked tunes?
Why should I preach my ministry when you look to coon?
Nah, this ain’t the average street rhetoric, I teach etiquette
I speak delicate, but move with the strength to impeach presidents
You made them think that your art’s official
But all I see is this artificial
I don’t concern myself with these artists issues
I got daughters, come feel the wrath of their father’s pistols
From a era when bootlegging DVDs
Might’ve been thought better than have a career in medicine
I’m from a era where a pack of Newports, a pint of some Everclear
I take away pain as if it was never there
My every vocal is carved with a diamond, the Harvard of rhyming
The stars is aligning, that’s marvelous timing
Far from a street rapper, I’m Langston Hughes with a tainted view
You soft as a hymen, I’m breaking pussies, too late for rookies
A scholar like W.E.B
How the fuck could you be me? Every single word I utter is 3D
A motion picture, my picture’s in motion, a different devotion
That’s what sets me apart from all these dicks you’re promoting
Fact
I still got it, man
I still got it
I be talking, man
The Reaper’s Hood, boy