Field.Hand.Writing

Verse 1

We start the revolution with blood and ink
Something to drink
Jonathan Jackson w/ the gun in the clink
Solidarity with the Soledads
This is for solo dads
Raising their seeds like gardeners, farmers
With soil, grass
I’m Sidney Dean on a breakbeat of funk and jazz
Opdiggy levels up with the same ups Billy Hoyle has
Foods that start with letter Q, get to the revenue
Quietly driving me - keeping hands steady at 10 and 2
Presidents grabbing the genitals/
I'm grabbing dead presidents
Sleeping on the kid is a reckless act of negligence
Wake’em w/ smelling salt, yelling alt-right Nazi punch
Turn the other cheek at the last supper, brother but not for lunch
I gotta hunch of the evil that men do
More than offend you, they will smile while skinning you
And then pretend to
Do it for your own good, sharpen knives and utensils
If there's no seat at the table best assume you're on the menu
It's akin to letting it fall, I'm on my Lin Que
Or sub any 90s rapper that meant so much to my development
With no blown smoke or embellishment
You ain’t gotta replace truth in the booth for relevance
Hell if it’s anybody listenin’ in earshot and you’re not
Willing to risk it all to catch the fall of a teardrop
Grew up in a small town where the criminals lived near cops
But I still thought eff the pigs like a Black Mirror plot
Reared off Eazy, Dre, O’shea, Ren, Yella
I am magic when it comes to the Penn & Teller
Sellers/buyers, baby boy - quell your desires
It’s all vanity and it'll melt in the fire

Verse 2:

Long before my brother took his shahada
Adan been the Don Dadda
I promise
I’m somewhere between Ka, Kano and Kaytranada
99.9% better than a lotta…
What you hear on the terrestrial radio, that’s just the way it goes
Like Janet w/ chokers and a midriff navel exposed
This music is coded language of black pain and anguish
The working middle class harassed and labeled as dangerous
Gentrified neighborhoods - in history, we saw this
You move in for the culture, but call the police on it
I have pledged every rhyme, line, limerick, and sonnet
In service of those who were told the truth was unwanted
I’m the vaulted ceiling in the habit for humanity
Jimmy Carter constructing these bars - a coated canopy
Covering candidates and incumbents, the smells pungent
I used to use the phrase “Black Jesus” til I felt that was redundant
God Save the Queen of this Banana Republic
And may His grace fill the space of every place I am unfit
Whether Casper ghost faced or black melanin sunkissed
We came to bring the unrest to any dummy that wants it…
I try to get on tracks or two and body a few features
Try to give you a reaction that goes further than knee-jerk
Try to get the thumbs up, I’m on my Siskel and Ebert
Eat a couple rappers until the back of my teeth hurt
I came in this game feet first, kicking like Neymar
Wrote this on the solar eclipse, peace to the daystar
I’m a son of Sarah, tho my bro is a son of Hagar
We’ve got shared family values - Toni, Trina, and Tamar
It’s Adán spacebar Bean, don’t forget it
I walk the fine line of kinda religious and explicit
On any given morning, I’m writing at Flying Biscuit
I’m Pablo Neruda meets Ludacris Bridges
Ain’t gotta lie to try and kick it, brodie - come as you are
This that Mufasa/Simba talk right up under the stars
Dekalb county to Duval
I’m a give you that raw
Off looks alone, I fooled ya’ll
I’m Uncle Phil in the pool hall
It's too close to call, w/ your half-baked assumptions
Applause or jeers, my dear - they mean nothin’
Pride comes before the fall
Compliments assist the wrath
But you can gas yourself to death like Sylvia Plath
Ain’t that really what we have, here, life in a nutshell
To varying degrees, it’s all some heaven and some hell
Poker hands of slight tells
Even though we might fail
Promise to keep fighting like Magic Johnson’s white cells
Might as well, the people shruggin’ like Ayn Rand
But i’ll be damned Give me a DJ or live band
So whenever you see me in the spotlight at a mic stand
Just know, I’m trying to show what language can do in the right hands