Imperfect

[Intro: 1080PALE - Poetry Pt. II]
Baby
[?]

(Ay Tweeko mixed this you know, it sounds cold)

[Verse 1: JRDN]
Look
Three wings, fillet burger and a side of chips
Bad for my system but it kinda helps me reminisce
And Bossman's known the kid since I was a kid
I walk in the shop, he can barely recognise who it is
Cah my eyes aren't as wide as they used to be
And my smiles got more heavy with less teeth
I'm much better than these rappers under scrutiny
The line between talent and clout is getting harder to see
You ever read somеthing good and then lose your trace
And now you'rе wasting time flipping back to find the page
That's how I feel taking strolls down memory lane
Walking back 10 years and still staying trapped in place
It's like, I'm within a simulation
Tryna guess different outcomes, predict situations
Playing on my mental, my contemplations
The hate in everyone's heart is becoming an expectation
Your bird is a parakeet, she chats to me, you hate rap tactically
Listen to that drill to try and live out all your fantasies
Always thought money would come by giving clarity
The only check I got was from reality
Sat navigating my thoughts just to address it
Started off on the wrong foot no wonder you're overstepping
Try and keep me posted but never get the message
But I'm of a different class so I guess I can't learn that lesson
We're in the same race but you're neck and neck with my afterimage
And I don't do that shit because I'm after image
I can't call you my blood if you never push my limits
And I don't think I have a limit I'll see when I'm finished
I am the bar, I am the level
I'm bass but I need a little treble
I need balance in my life before I push the peddles
I need to climb up to the podium to take my medal

[Verse 2: 26Dexter]
Like if you love me better let me know
And if you're hating better let it go
See me the next episode
I'm over special and I bet it shows
I write a 6 and then I get him ghost
Parker stroke beretta blows
I felt a fettish for some feta folds
My style is heaven sent it come like medicine and you can get a dose
These rappers can't cat it's dexter, the Rosetta stone
I'm Champollion
Lemme show you bout these letters bro
Your car full of fake friends
Mothers with my brothers I break bread
Our father art in these bait ends
Steady on the graft and he made ten
But you're on your arse say you hate stress
These brothers need to get a life
You make a rack
Take a quarter, set the rest aside
And give a bills to your mum so she can see that her son is steady getting it done
He's ready to energise
They done me dirty but I let it slide
Man I'm dexter, I'm from the hill, tryna run up a mill
Tryna escape the ghetto
The claws are pulling me still
Writing bars by the window I'm tryna capture the thrill
Crimson spill on the pave and the mothers cry in the field
But them drillers wouldn't tell you that
He had ambition, it was lack of drive that held him back
I'm writing scriptures man I ain't just tryna sell you raps
If you look hungry then these kids will try to sell you crack
Yo darlin', I'll bell you back
I'm just tryna hit my targets
I'm on the train I got a monkey folded in my RRIPZ
My coworker thinks I've lost my head
I'm always talking under my breath
I'm tryna tell her that I'm only barring
Now we're laughing but there ain't shit funny
Go hard and graft and make this money
I wrote bars they're hard I ain't been gully
But they're begging me still to tell my story so I let it reveal
Uh, yeah