The Language

Life is stranger than fiction But few believe it Entire lives spent On imaginary achievements Imagine life spent On some shit worth seeding Oh please It's my people I believe in You know you like the truth kicked proper Your honor Ain't worth more than a fist full of dollars Ain't worth more than like 99 problems So Know who you are I've crafted something critical It's laced in the bars Woven through the literal stars Focused on parietal thoughts So structural integrities lost Epiphany the language of god Yeah Gods of the soil Walkers of the land Them Scribes never told us Bout the god in the man Yeah Gods of the soil Walkers of the lands Scribes never told us Bout the god in the man This The realist shit They never told ya Motion Like a locomotive Destined-Nations Crafting Blackened out equations Darkest before light Future pictured like a painting With Different values and coloration Stroke of the brush And Every shade finds its placement Administrating silence Can't reveal all of the changes Cuz When you high enough Man they just can't see ya Staring out the pit They just can't beat us Tinted like clay Blood red Yet they callin' us slave Take us out our element While we still in our space Flip it on its head, when you learn what to say