Melodies from earth they off-key
Lady sings the blues in mockery
In the pocket, we plead for rockets or airfare
Maybe cuz this heir flair
Can barely compare conforming
Transforming Beverley
Internally Inglewood
Singleton is my heartbeat
Wishin’ a fool wouldn’t
Idols yeah they still wooden.
Pushin for 12 I’m Israel or Cuba gooden
In need of milk, we pop appeals they over lookin.
Tasting the salt it’s him layin his life down (Himalayan)
For every dream that’s gets swiped down.
Won’t even credit his skin was some type brown.
I see that image is currency up in my town.
I see that 3b lace is the hype now.
I need a getaway some say a lobotomy
This ain’t Psychiatric it’s a longing for what I ought to be. 
Fearing I am botanical here today then I’m gone
Without helping a soul
Without righting some wrongs.
Without.
I fear I’m too contrast or esoteric
So My ACLs are torn kneeling down for this spheric.
Praying for atmospheric shift
Vicarious nah, it’s in our midst.
It’s in our grip I-scariot calls. 
Betraying it all the fall is way too steep
Insomnia for the culture but souls is sleep
Consciousness for the street but we still shooting
Looting ourselves selves we still fighting to think free. 
Still fighting to be
I think I’m feeling disposable by mankind
Cuz pain ain’t audible when your hand sign
beaten by a landslide knight sticks fightin with our hands tied
A disguise that derives from inside of U.S.(A)