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lyrics

Push hard, now it is no doubt I'm on the brink ..hell..
clouds in my scene...but no drought in my inkwell..../
proud of the things I'm, surrounded by...he held../
three tails of tigers...yeah, I'm alive and everything's swell../
....best believe that Im born flow'r...human being more over/
sober .. souls breathing like the horn blowers.../
like Miles Davis the style changed ..more than Kurt Loders../
gritting through the pain like torn molars....now the storms over../
I reach far ...on repeat, the beat is my sweetheart..../
you seek gods, I speak of bar codes like key cards.../
they seem smart....gobble up bread, I dont eat carbs../
he's dark ...blacker than a streets...that your feet mark.../
these schemes start..a train of it thought ...keep your meat parked../
no false moves...foes known to fall through .../
like bowling balls thrown at a carpet...ya'll fools../
wouldn't know the art....yet I'm here soaked in all blues....

blues...never gon' out wash out... x3
like the moon, settled on the dark clouds..

Press hard, stay working, you wont know it's bad.../
best part of the day's when I playing on controller pads../
and press weights...then stretch away on a folded mat.../
or spoken rap...choking out patterns w/o holding back../
Like a poker match.... Need a lucky stroke in fact.../
Focus lacks.... My attention jumping like Jehoshaphat.../
Mind caught like souls of what hell snares...
For my own welfare... Highly condone self care.../
Felt glares and stared right back at the abyss.../
Nietzsche says not to do it but I'm apt to be a prick..../
All this apathy is soothing... Do we actually exist?.../
So I causally pursue this, I don't have to be the shit.../
Still immersed in a sewer smell...I knew it well../
Chewing nails... nervous for this fight, now cue the bell..../
they doing rails in powder rooms...dudes is frail..../
fighting off green and yellow..something only blues can tell..

credits

from E​.​M​.​P (The Son's Return), released November 20, 2020

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Eville/So.Au Ink Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Firmly attached to the golden age of hiphop when you had to actually rap to be a rapper.

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