Good Soil

Simba semblances slipping into my sentences. S/O the man of the house who mastered in mentorship. I’ll make my parents so proud through passion and penmanship cause everything that didn’t work out will go get a membership. 

They taught me to walk, therefore I can run. I was blessed with a father who’d go to war for his sons. And as I get older it’s so amazing to me. Forever grateful for the person that they raised me to be. They were so sure that I was special that they made me believe. I went from crawling, to walking, now I’m chasing my dreams. 

Privileged yet far from spoiled, 

this is my heart uncoiled. 

Some roses grow through concrete, I got my start in soil. 

Aware of my advantages, was scared to take a chance with this. I once crashed and burned, I came out dancing through the damages. I might show a part of me that I ain’t even plan to spit. This is the part where I let go, my mind’s like ready-set-go. Time to shoot my shot, this is the step back from the elbow. Won’t catch me in some shell toes, stick with me like Velcro. Will I switch up? Hell no. Same old Shaun, same number on my cell phone. I’m not too hard to reach, I’ve mastered parts of speech. Dr. Shaun, the pen is my needle. Words in your arteries. Honestly it’s easy to write so it isn’t hard to read. Unless you’re kinda stupid in that case my bad, I’m sorry please...

Do your best to follow along. These are the thoughts I didn’t get the chance to drop in a song. My mind is racing, I just caught the baton. Not too sure where it’s coming from but it’s gotta be Shaun, my heart in this form. Result of gifts I got when I’m born. Had some times where it was hard to be strong. I once wanted to die but now I feel like I just respawned. Searching for the duty I was called to, 

Destroy and deploy, approach the beat poised. With a deep voice, clean up the flow. Create a neat noise. Listen up, about to talk about some different stuff. Celebration glass of wine, I toast and lift your spirits up. Tryna get my bread up, that might mess your head up. Scroll a couple lines back, I’m not about to let up. Hold it down, these punchlines I throw around. Ironic how the hottest bars in silence make the coldest sounds. 

Mold the mounds, sort it all out. Distribute dope in pounds. 180 of em, never angled, keep it cut straight. 180 pounds of dope, hop off the scale, it fluctu-weights. Just a little wordplay. Took a don’t disturb day. That’s that Plug Talk, record the podcast every Thursday. 

Rate it on a scale and if they don’t SayTen, I’ll give em hell. I’m so dope I flipped myself, not writing is a 

hit to health. The story of my life told so uniquely that the script could sell. It’s ultimately all because my parents raised their children well. 

Note to self: you’re a great winner. This verse is the one that came after my girl made dinner. My plate’s set, I see the world way bigger. This passion is priceless but probably worth 8 figures. Treat me with respect, driven by the day I’m seeing different checks. Look around at everything I got out of my intellect. That’s the future, my present is a gift from my past. My brokest days’ll keep me focused when I get to the cash. I sit and I laugh at how I will be flipping the bag because I remember when life was really kicking my ass. 

I was down and out and it was bad, having withdrawals. Went through writers block but now I’m staffed by the KnicksWall. Overcame the brick wall. Thankful for the rise yet I’m still planning for my pitfalls. This might only make sense if you re(a)d it, like a missed call. I hope someone catches it, might find a hint in your call log. Went from scared to shoot my shot to overzealous ballhog. 

That’s enough, so clap it up. Talked it then I backed it up. The most important part about a verse is how you wrap it up.