Through My Own Mic

I am a man of reason, rather than treason
No matter how ravage the season
I am a soul of respect, crossing the lines that intersect between normal and different, simply not alike
Holding down the fort speaking through my own mic
Sometimes pushed around because my thoughts are so profound
I spend every other second in my mind mixing words and rhymes
Hey, it's time to put down the pencil
I don't think so, because I'm always scribbling poetic riffs in my head, I do it for the hell of it, don't care if the'yre read
It's the medication with no seed but concentration
It's a skill that to have, anyone would kill
The great thrill of crafting your emotions into a true notion wide out in the open
The rope that holds the weight of all the hate, you're feeling like nothing but bate with an awful fate
To be able to spit your anger in their face
Without drawing the mace
It's beautiful, doing damage without a hint of blood
Because there's absolutely no need for a flood of drama
(Hey, THANKS OSAMA)
Yeah I am a man, striving to be the best as I can