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