Beggar's Cup

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Yours, River

4:20

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My luck 
Lay in the road
Copper side up
Copper side down it shone

I 
I passed it by
I turned around
I picked it up

I shook my beggar's cup
I shook my beggar's cup

Well time
Takes in its hand
What's handed to it
Warm bread a stone or sand

Shaped 
For what it holds
For what it makes
Fingers touch presence's place

Oh my pride
Lay in the seams
Slipped through the cracks
Of its Milwaukee jeans

Between air and ground
Copper side spinnin'
My eyes are stuck

On picking up my luck

Oh Ohhh Oh Ohhh
Oh Oh Oh 
I shook my beggar's cup
Oh Ohhh Oh Ohhh
Oh Oh Oh

Why my legs fallin asleep
My heads underneath
Countin up sheep
Enumerate leaps
I spit fat beats
Smoke fatter blunts 
At your uncle and aunts
Get her comfy more than once 
While I sit back and enunciate

Am I dreamin or just relatin
My trains stuck in a station
And I'm prayin that this aimlessness is belaborin wits 
Insane consciousness 
We're all awaitin'

Traipsing the intellect
Of certain sects
Cicadas nests 
Arcane intestines 
Filled with pests
At whose behest
The governments
We so detest
Sick fuckin pricks

Slick but a runt
Remember your aunt
She was a metaphor for the hunt
Of civil citizens 
On a pension
Worth benzes, forensics 
Who have dreams, swivel chips
Drizzle clips
Sell narcotics 
To realize them

I should just rap on the flow
Go slow
Do more blow
I don't know
How shit go
Profits grow
The rich glow
The poor blow
Their last note at the sto

Yo I'm spittin fire 
Torchin the liars
Requiring dire
Admonishment by a choir
Call me sire
I am the king
Not of bling
But of things 
Happening
In the wings
Lifting up on a breath
Move the family west
Hit the coast
Roast the ghosts
They're the prose
Most verbose 
But their words don't mean shit
When your shoes show your toes
Or your bruised or your froze

It's the streets that's talking
The one on which you're walking
And squawking away 
A dog has it's day
Circadian favors
The night has its flavors
Piss in elevators
Rich and elevated

Situations changin
Mitchell might have made it
Itchin on the pavement
Figment of a gangsta

In a department store
His life is bore
Cartin floorboards
Where can he go
Corridors of labor
Corrupt doors of gay whores
Michael koors and Trayvon

Will the man say hey son
You're one of mine
Health benefits
Wealth deficits
All held in cribs
Of power
Shall be returned to
The founder
And flower

I shook my beggar's cup
I shook my beggar's cup

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