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letra de ginger ale - stephen the levite

(terminal illness)
i’ve got a virus, i spit when a mics in sight i might quit
or die with this, i’m sick
i infect devices, papyrus
if i can write with it, recite in it, it slides in it like
(surgical steel slits)
leaving battle scars, it’s more like a tat it’s art, these people can’t handle bars
unicycles that think i’m from planet mars
true disciples see g*nius and ask for more
i’m (serving you realness)
life and doctrine, eyes be watching
spies be plotting, trying to stop this, mind your walk when
lies get tossed online they spark a fire
engulfing minds who got this
(inferno to deal with)
call the firemen where you’re residing is
now an environment that takes the lives of men, though he died for them
the sin from your tongue smoke filling his lungs like this is us
we live because of what he did for us
(be certain you feel this)
remove the calluses
you’ve confused the challengers with the fools who silence us
the truth can balance this if you could handle it
crude practices skew -n-lysis
(the hurt that you feel is)
all in your mind, call it a crime
no officer finds the cause of your crying, the loss is their time
you probably should have talked to the guy instead of getting lost in the hype
thought you was right, now it’s awkward to type
(i urge you to chill with)
them rush judgements, -ssumptions, from a little of nothing, clips with subtext
defensive punks with lips that sunk ships
fronting like they’re above the dumbness
(insert a “get real” gif)
these trolls get personal real quick, attempted murder with peeled lips
until jesus returns to heal this, i keep the circus at will’s length
while i steal sips of the ginger ale, still sick

- stephen the levite

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