Artist: Bless 1 Album: Starving Artist Song: Starving Artist Typed by: bless1music@gmail.com Verse 1: My world's animated; music helps it all spin around Fiends pound the pavement for that Betty White or Charlie Brown I mark it down; recite it over drums I get excited Snares pop for power like when rounds get ignited Watching my people run to the temple seeking forgiveness Doing dirt in secrecy, where only God can witness Trying to walk a road less traveled, but it's like The straighter the path the harder the gravel Trying to survive where the bullets part with the barrel If money decreases and the future starts to look narrow Playing them corners harder than kids at recess Take deep breaths the stress is like a knee in your chest We keep it gutter, in cold weather leathers are butter If the words ain't clear enough they let them gun shots stutter Shorties be stressing so we let it burn like rubber Then pick up our seeds the next week with a new lover Cracking your window like broke dreams to leak the sounds Of an unsigned word merchant dwelling in Chi-Town Chorus 2x: I got a dollar in my pocket and I'm riding the train I know you hear me homie, but you ain't feeling my pain Why don't you do me a favor, buy a couple CD's I'm trying to get, get on… get, get ,get on If you ain't really hear me then I'ma say it again I'm trying to get, get on… get, get, get on Verse 2: I Jim Crow the pain to the back off my skull Place the brighter thoughts forward like sale items from grocers Staying up for days in a cramped room with dirty crates My soul yelling ‘til they soundproof the pearly gates Or at least until I own a little real estate Paid off the these incurred debts and set my people straight A broke man with a vision, in Samhain's kitchen Just a glimpse inside my mind while my hand's itching Hanging by a thread for a place to rest my head Lusting money want to slut it out across the bed Skipping meals trying to keep my ambition fed It's barely breathing, matter fact dog, I think it's dead! So I coast with fumes The only time I felt alive was when I spoke in booths Blurting out raw emotions dipped and soaked in truth They've outgrown their home so I'm turning them loose I ain't begging you to purchase my songs I need the money, but homie if you ain't feeling me, I'd rather you don't Chorus 2x: