You're in my heart, in my mind You're the star that will always you'll be with me
Uh, it go You ever see the inner depths of a soul? Or ninja turtles out of manholes is balance Between a comic and a conscious, the challenge Between the solitary and the that I examines I imagine was a figure Would be the start of peace and the transformation of niggas Like the of liquor But that's just turnin' them into And we'll be right where we was Not a peace-sign, but a with scissors So I can cut off from the calculations of empress, empires, and the sinners For of human suffering And things trying to impede my publishing and editorials That's gon' bring it to us again A boomerang as Halle Barry and Eddie and everybody fuckin' it
You're in my heart, in my mind You're the star that will always Forever be with
Even independent cars ain't got one I got some and to spare No more My motor-ware don't match my motivate to Also I drive to stay alive and this over there My momma so mad, so no alcohol in I'm Aries Spears on my shit Affion on the skit Now how many more can I make with just one They call it fake shit some deep shit It's my me impersonatin' we Vicariously in every rap I speak I hope you're for me, if I'm ever speechless I'mma be you Even you're not here to be with I hope I see these gangsters like teachers Wake up out they sleep, then they And the world so Martin King-less
You're in my heart, you're in my You're the star that always shine you'll be with
And to my Heron, Gil Scott In a discourse with On a jet with no fear for fallin' But wishin' it never of the dream time Presently en to the rhymes of the machine time Magazine With coffee sugar and milk than coffee rhymes, rotten beats, and failed hooks Roads as bumpy as braille Fail cools, bad French, and mad at the door Gourmet food at the soiree A choice of one easy woman at a take three the hard way Trying to be as abstract as And vulgar, the shocking the more profitable A baby fed gold And sat a pedestal promote getting called 24 carot souls How to describe remarks such as the best thing I've ever heard is silence Some more technically In a faux Spanish romantic hues of a Marxist Please listen to the critics, is the common passerby Might as not even exist, not even a bit In the event of my demise everything I prize to the poor And to the oppressors, I a war And so on and so