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letra de letter to the rap game - jesse howard

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it’s twisted bits just hear that
i’m cl!cking pics just stare at me
if you can’t grip the sh-t then there ya have it;
it’s deep, spit this sh-t to snare as is

considered it’s this or that, i’d quicken to fix a laugh
which withers to mixtures half-pitched. to scripture written up; triggers quick and hits the pad
you couldn’t picture that

now we could go that scenic route; rerun style
screaming and teasing foul? i won’t go there
i’m bout bigger messages; peace now…

so clean it out or scream it out by yourself and team in bouts
yo, screen it out or police it wow…
heard ya botched jotted sh-t. i’m lost in offices stocked with lists to stop twists and populaces

i’m off the grids; tell my stories
battling’s not my style; waste of my time
rather, get wasted in bas-m-nt chase it with b-ss; snare and state with the rhyme, lime, wasting my time; blaring crates with the rhyme

cuz after it i crash like ukrainian missile happs on american aircrafts; f-ckin hard. rush commercial lines then it’s thunder sound; underground

express myself this music is therapeutic
sift perceptions of info, surrounding situations, projections in ten fold; old and of the newest
this is my master thesis letter to the rap game
this is my master thesis letter to the rap game

i would make a track spanning out my homage. could take a moment back; spend it, oust my knowledge
no drug induced poetry; flushed it’s use; less so is meaning
when an emcee busts a useless flow, it’s seeming

never give a f-ck with pencil ended maintenance
said it; it’s enough over mental spent displaying
never giving up; detrimental dedication
never give a f-ck sober; eventful replication

put given rhythm to my living to adapt to any situation; with logical perseverance to clash. with any, sh-t’s a matrix. optical blur like spirits; option able to share this

if i tell you how “i do me”; i win every time. no commitment to sh-t, mixed with being a bum; that gives two sh-ts of a f-ck; what you say or a rhyme. i’d cut my d-ck off like noshame and start battling hynes. catch up, i’m bout peace!

expressing myself. telling stories… you can relate too

i’m alien seeming humans. blasting off daily phonics, trail being in fluids; astronomical. i’m in comets sailing scenes influenced. in an o-zone high past my sonnets. scopin out the provolone astronautic. an astronaut blip. almost hard to track me honest

this music is therapeutic
sift perceptions of info, surrounding situations, projections in ten fold; old and of the newest
this is my master thesis letter to the rap game

- jesse howard

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