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This is my inbox to music
words were meant to be heard without a beat
Not knockn those sitting in the seat
it seems some lost there ability to see
My letters reflect me
I have no studio to rent
But that doesnt stop my message from getting sent
What happened to the stories
The awareness of real world worries
Are we concerned with the wrong thang
How about us who jus wanna sang
If it's not about "what i got", or smoke
My ears bleeding,body stuck, my soul choked
it's a message to what i wrote
Who decides if i'm artistic
This is my inbox to music
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