I’ve been so lonely without you.

I said we need a break.
And then I took the wrong turn and went astray.
I had my foot on the gas; no brakes.
I was low.
Down bad.
What a shame.
I could’ve crashed.
I was swerving in the black
till I found the Word…
till I found the lamp.
Now I’m on the way.
I can’t be lost with the map.
Won’t be gone again.
Yours forever, truly.

Let’s take a jog down the lane.
Listening to Money Trees put me in a daze.
That was when we met.
You helped me decorate a page.
‘I wanna be a rapstar’ was my only thought.
I found my path
and we would scribble in the back of English class,
and we were mimicking flows from kings of rap,
and we would memorise speeches
for the trophies they get.
You remember them?
Sometimes the mirror does reflect on times.
Oh how they fly by.
Like times when you and I’d write those mixtapes
with no beats.
How could we drop a mixtape
with no beats?
Then the clock flew to the snow from the sand.
Underground rockers.
We were magnets to fans.
All we did was burn the microphone for pleasure.
Now it’s time to be His vessel.

I said we need a break.
And then I took the wrong turn and went astray.
I had my foot on the gas; no brakes.
I was low.
Down bad.
What a shame.
I could’ve crashed.
I was swerving in the black
till I found the Word…
till I found the lamp.
Now I’m on the way.
I can’t be lost with the map.
Won’t be gone again.
Yours forever, truly.

Remember Lower East Side?
At all the open mics, you would run wild.
Used to love rehearsal ‘cause no limit on time.
Tucked behind the curtain tryna get routines right.
We were chasing UMG dreams.
Investigating record labels.
Mapping out schemes.
Remember that?
Even back then,
a type beat was high-grade.
Instrumental smoke.
Faded daily.
Mixing excellence
with some intelligence.
A dash of elegance.
All those experiments
garnished our tongue with slick, precise rhymes.
It’s lyrical symbiosis till we die.
It’s hard to tell who’s the guest and the host.
Picking petals off the retro rose.
Do we love we?
Well, we have no doubts.
And when we take the final breath
is when we finish our beeswax.

I said we need a break.
And then I took the wrong turn and went astray.
I had my foot on the gas; no brakes.
I was low.
Down bad.
What a shame.
I could’ve crashed.
I was swerving in the black
till I found the Word…
till I found the lamp.
Now I’m on the way.
I can’t be lost with the map.
Won’t be gone again.
Yours forever, truly.