BUILDING BLUEPRINT

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Son with a Gun

Wake up in the mornin', the sun it keeps on pourin'
In through the blinds that reminds me of the times
I've had on this rock, syllabic licked glock in my pocket
And yes, I fuckin' rock it, I stock words as weapons
I lock clocks that I'm wrestlin', with bars that I'm nestlin' in proper inflection
I said I'm a stopper of time on a dime when I spit and unwind the binds of my mind
Just a normal boy, with abnormal joy and a paranormal toy in the form of a voice
With a choice to make noise, break and shake to rake in steak on my plate, as I state my only fate
I hate the life I currently inhabit, the world is hungry, straight set to ravage
Hare or rabbit, and I'm the cabbage, family stuck in muck and some bad habits
Workin' factory jobs, for unsatisfactory globs, of spendin' sewage
The shit that keeps us stuck up in these motherfuckin' ruins, yes a little money, and honey its funny
Mom slaving away every single day, 3 12:30 with absurdity that irks me see, to a vocal spree
I rap for more than you will ever see, I scrap for more than just whores and money
I'm just a son with a gun as a tongue and I'm ready to lunge, steady aimed to plunge
In and plunder as I shake and sunder from undercover, buildin' up for my mother
My sister too, entire family and friends are my crew, dire straights that we all been through
Together, rougher weather could never ever sever, the bonds we have, like steel ropes tied together

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