The Ballad of the Broken (feat. Jasmine Cephas-Jones)

This the ballad of the broken

Eulogy of the bruised that spews unspoken on a poorly lit corner of west Oakland

Where new whites ride by on fixed gear bikes and old town shit dies by the light of another liquor store closing

And I am a vagabond of afterthoughts manic in the pageantry of an impossible plastic posture pressured by a rotting precedent of my Babylon

So before you begin let me remind you

These mothafuckas wish I was who they never could be

Wish they did what it does while I do it begrudgingly

I am the most in the mud

It’s made thick in my blood

And I misstep occasionally so fuckin’ what, so fuckin’ what

Fuck, I tripped right on the gun

Fuck I mixed lights with the rum and flew a bit tight to the sun

A Bay girl gets no license to run

I gotta be dirty as a Magdalene and holy to these **** as a nun

And down like a clown no matter the sentence sung or grip on my lungs

But what if I’m coming undone

What if they got me coming undone

Fuck! I am not the one, I am not the fucking one!