The Curl

They jotting down raps for the accolades,

I got up and got in my bag today.

If you want the smoke, we can ash the jay.

I'll show you the ropes like a Mayweather fight in a heavyweight title with Cassius Clay.

This passionate flow making dams break.

Put my foot on the pedal, we shifting the gears and we coming in clutch as a hand brake.

Look what my Mom and my Dad made.

I swear me and God got a handshake.

He gave me a knack for the language, I'll use this vernac till the family mad paid.

I used to live at my Gran's place.

I was carrying mad pain.

The picture was bigger than me, now I see I'm a piece of the puzzle like sand grains.

Lungelo carried the passion of rapping and threw me an opp, imma dunk like LeBron's James.

When he stepped in a booth, it would set a blaze.

So every second he took just to write and record is a moment I give him praise.

Even though I ain't see him perform on stage,

I just know that he had it.

Writing verses for him was a habit.

Now that I'm older I can understand it.

Gift of the gab was something we were handed.

Making music for the different pallets.

Too many songs in the tuck, we got too many pockets, I'm starting to feel like a jacket.

Praise the redeemer, he showed us the light on the path that he had for my brother and I as he planned it.

I could reach for the stars or just grab it.