e sits at the back of the bus, invisible to the common eye/
Blessed with a musical touch, but never gets recognised/
His pencil is an ocean of emotion, the flow'll never stop/
He's lost in his headphones... He's true hip hop/
Imagine findin' a utopia that takes over your mindstate/
He finds his perfect world contained within a mixtape/
Head bobbin', pen scratchin', busy writing his scripture/
No stoppin', sent packin', usin' a pen to paint a picture/
Good vs. Evil, stories of the people, make-up a collage of ink/
In the hip hop food chain, he's the missing link/
Was a start. But i feel asleep last night. Any comments?
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