I know I'm hard to handle for the youngins,
I don't deliver I broadcast a doper substance
too find to mirror too laced to know what's fucking your mind more I'm free based off the northwest it's known for nothing,
but dope ice beer bitches and hunting,
they say I go too fast: find a playground his own munchkins
don't be mad your cycles pain is redundant
Rexall has Midol relax you're on your Pumpkin
do you believe in fate?
can you count the up-and-coming's?
Who I am, what you get, why your bitches blushin,
when you panic seeing from where it is that I'm hot abundance,
and how you wouldn't know me even if you've got real introductions.
you don't know the past or why the ink is pumped in,
you don't know the plans or how to balance functions
you see the blunted Sensei, not the dad and husband,
got to eat slave and pave the way, I doin this shit for nothing
(Chorus)
I Don't worry about what's in the bank but ain't doing the shit for nothing,
I got lots left in my tank but I didn't make this trip for nothing
I know now who I should thank, and who were always good for nothing for nothing
I'm in a stealers wheel song: clowns to the left of me jokers to the right here I am stuck with energy,
kinetically gathering through chemistry in a paradox,
my time is clocked but distracted in Shock you swear it stops,
when the rarest drops, you see the common congregating,
contemplating no longer playing while theres still one stronger waiting,
not for a crown or fortune but a reason to bury an
be there one or many, oh man I've been so friendly,
like the eye of the storm, but fate has more than fired a warning shot at me times before,
so many signs we Ignore, you ask: why do we fall?
it so we can learn to pick ourselves up and each time we evolve.
And I don't know what I am to you: a man, a truth, but the proof is with the headphones in the booth,
My particle centrifuge, speeding true rhyth-ium with energy boosts through a mic that came to you from nothin.
(Chorus)
For once, I wanna be literal not poetic,
I'm humble, not pathetic, a novel, not a sentence,
In song and skin I rep it, play nice: and they don't get it,
Play hard: they don't respect it, fuck that, challenge accepted,
Some are lost and pretentious, I feel for em, I really do,
Cuz when you think you're on the right path that many choose,
It's gonna chew at your heart to face the shitty news:
That you're playing yourself, it's the road that chooses you.
I'm sick but not diseased, and respect at least half
Of my competition, and don't attack who's no match,
Even go as far as congrats, so I ant help but ask:
Why do some like I'm not on the map and yet chat
With the wolves in my pack, exchanging info to make tracks,
No hi, no bye, just a glance that I may catch that don't last,
Do I smell that bad, is there a ghost from my past,
Or do you see what you've done was all for nothin'??
Mic Starink (aka The Mic) - Artist, Producer, MC, Song Writer, Author, Prototype.....
Mic Starink. Real
Name. No Gimmicks. Artist, Producer, MC, songwriter, Author, Gypsy, Prototype.....
The Oakland rap duo's latest drips with synth haze laced with sharp beats and lyrics that, while grounded in reality, dream of the future. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 26, 2016