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The epicenter of the inner spiritual here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore capture scenes with maximum aperture I'm not an amateur more like an avatar (om) never gonna fall nor am I mad at all I just grab the devil by the horns like a matador beats galore, take'em ship'em straight out the door (ay) a giant in a miniature town, don't frown that-a boy, I'ma catapult rhymes from my data port at this point I could ill-afford bullet holes in my metaphors California's my home, invest in myself even when I'm hella poor therefore, the more I get in to a war with boredom all I'm looking for is a portal to get to a level where my consciousness can constantly concoct a conversation with the heavens till I die Suddenly, you start to understand the subtleties how the colors don't fit the frame kind of like how nude and porn ain't the same kids born with pain, heart torn in twain I board the train, go all terrain to stroll the lane called memory game over, all the fame ain't worth a thing it's so simple and plain, what's to gain? so we'd know better to aim to maintain and keep the mind sane I ain't a saint but I use the paint of words to create the rain to cleanse the soul of dirt and be free of vain only to turn around in shame and do it again, damn The epicenter of the inner spiritual here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore dope literature After summer, fall naturally like autumn leaves return to the soil like broken pottery dirty words put together make beautiful poetry property over spirit make mental poverty probably, given the spreadsheet I'm an anomaly abnormally speaking it's all a make-believe maybe when enabling the labor and the loving in the air, disabling the labeling we all win in the end maybe when enabling the labor and the loving in the air, disabling the labeling we all win in the end The epicenter of the inner spiritual here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore dope literature