Mute Who Should Talk

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Jmes K.

3:25

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First verse freestyle
Lost what I wrote
Wrote it all down
Got robbed by the ghost
Lurks like a bad thought
Hung on a nail 
Blind to it all
Bump for the braille 
Just another mask 
Going live on the 'Gram
I try to take it off 
While I hide who I am 
I used to post my shit 
Got about twelve likes 
From me, myself and I
The other eight of me and mic 
Who's aiding me in life?
Not a motherfuckin one 
Abandoned by my father 
Like my father by his son 
I'm coming and I'm coming 
And I come, I come undone 
I'm slipping and I'm falling 
And I'm flying on the run 
Pop, a motherfuckin mc'a
Straight out the year 
20-19-93'a
Now why would I ever 
Want to feel this way 
Trapped in a cell 
On the run for days 
What way's up 
Come way down 
Cries for help 
One way sounds 
Why I would I ever
Want to feel like this 
Week long days 
What night is this 
Ain't no hope 
In the land of the chains 
Where I sit and I smoke 
And I cope with the pains 

Wuttup with your man
He look like he's lost
That's Jim, he dim
No lamp in the fog
But you'd probably like him 
He's an honest one, a quiet type
Mute who should talk
Opens up to open mic

My life is smoke and mirrors
Chalk full of ghosts
Who can't see me but know I'm there
It's like it's stop and start
My notes is commas 
All over the place
How long is this wait
How long will it take
How long till I break
What day it is, what day is it
I'm sick a this
A hundred voices a day
And they're all talking shit
What happened to J
No one's seen from him since
Gone in the wind man
Disappearance 
His mom is alarmed
He left a note it's with Chris
You read what he wrote right
It's straight gibberish
No telling what's on his mind
It look suspicious
His family's distraught
Saying he's not like this
We pray he alive
In a Jeep full of Jims
It's all in his head man
These voices his friends
Sure he was odd
Hmmm, just different
Forgets that he's loved
Doesn't know that he's missed

Wuttup with your man
He look like he's lost
That's Jim, he dim
No lamp in the fog
But you'd probably like him 
He's an honest one, a quiet type
Mute who should talk
Opens up to open mic

I live inside my head 
I'm feeling like I'm dead 
Would I if I could I
HB splinters from the led 
My style packs a poem 
But my poem don't pack a style 
My smile packs these bones 
But these bones is sad and down 
When I'm off it
Honest, open and willing
I'm on it, always the villian 
I soak in these feelings like dope
Cope with dealings, the billows of smoke 
There's ghosts in the ceilings, they're gross
Close to a million, the pills or the rope
This hope is appealing
This hope that I'm feeling
Hands folded and kneeling
I'm silent, inside I'm holding it screaming
Either I'm dying or leaving
I feel alive because I mean it
I took my shot and missed and hit a city cop
Mister in the city, inner city rock
Into rope and cinder blocks
Tie the knot and send it off
And end it all, my beckon call
A motherfucking wrecking ball
I'm coming through, I'm coming come-undone
Tie the noose, kick the stool, and then I'm gone

Wuttup with your man
He look like he's lost
That's Jim, he dim
No lamp in the fog
But you'd probably like him 
He's an honest one, a quiet type
Mute who should talk
Opens up to open mic

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