Begonias

[Verse 1: R.A.P. Ferreira]
Chaos and order, clay pestle and mortar
700 rotations, I won't say anymore
The day obeys the clay more
Facts aren't always congruent
I'm sure we can agree God is a Black woman
The shapes from under the rug
Drill bits covered in blood, I can't count past a bunch
Ain't even been sentenced, lookin' for redemption
I play the greens, eat the blues, read the funny pages
Avoid the news, it's nothing new
Pickled morals, I too want some nigga spoils
Parish [?], me and two Appolonias
Pickin' begonias in Fredonia, nevermore
This rhyme don't have a single metaphor
I wrote this in a temple that's also a record store
Somehow I never made sense, but it always paid the bills
Back in my day we called that– skills, skills
I'm an escape merchant, mastering the 5th through 8th circuits
Time and again, I have to learn patience is purpose
I'm always trying to cut the line, bifurcate the parallel
Very well, and that's my liberation from hell
My rocket mechanism pocket symphony
Specimism at the buffet to update my poetic weapon system
Blessed with the ism from a young age, very early on
Tales from the deep end, it always felt cheapened
When they claimed to be demons, as if a human wasn't much worse
There's no depths to their bloodthirst
Ay, but what's a goon to a goblin?
One of them nights when the moon get to wobblin'
And troops be booty nekkid on street corners
I ain't no streets reporter, I'm a poet
Redguard, Ruby Yacht, head guard, to keep evil thoughts out
Daywalkers stroll about, I think you holdin' out but that's alright
That's alright, but that's alright, but that's aright
Out here on [?] boulevard
Where niggas will pull your card, and a poet keep a poky on him
Plums from the garden

[Verse 2: Hprizm]
P, this is reminiscent of
Moments I kept in an album, I [?] a child
Standin up in the crib, lookin' over the edge with life ahead
While mics, life, and dreams collide
Force me to go outside, the step and slides across floor
Mechanized precision, my mind's different, infinite options
For how to let it drop and make it rise
Appearing like craft to the naked eyes, when Babylons capsize
And flooded, from the backdrop the holders of the culture
Stayed alive through verses, pack roaches to back down vultures
I ignite and let it burn down to the roach clip
Then unwrap and repack that, push caps back
My pops sat me down and said "son, be a one of one"
I painted abstract after that
Became ore acquainted with the end of the set of my pen
New levels, new devils, there's no beginnin' and no end

[Verse 3: R.A.P. Ferreira]
Time beckons nearer
I found myself outside of mirrors
The balance beam made the callous seem insincere
Impaired, I'm a wizard no matter what clothes I weared, and wore
I bear the weight of the torn
My rhyme book for a handful of blue corn
There's a lot of things I couldn't move on, or from
Imagine using a coupon for a gun only to steal a life
From a place they do that if your shoes is too nice
Must be why we wore the ugly ones
Must be why I can't speak my mother tongue, cause we don't know it
Had to become a poet and invent one
Been to hell and nack and then some
So I thought you had said sum
And I was ready to exterminate over that
From the dark corner of the map readin' "here be dragons"
Time lashes
I've been both baskin' and robbin'
Failed class but mastered my options
It's R.A.P. Ferreira, nigga
Mastered the terror, nigga, and now I'm a terror, nigga
And now I'm a terror

[Vocal clip]
I want my own voice in art to be far from polite. I don't think I'm someone that wants to dress something up to make it more digestible for a viewer, I think that especially in this case, it's pretty raw