Papermate - CYNE

Yo hand to hand, together like joy and pain

We join to make a vehicle to motivate change

Slight insane, the way we regulate things

The pen became the master to make my thoughts sing

When I design intricate rhymes in between lines, I coexist

Leaking my blood my owner hold a fist way up in the air, forever warfare

And revolution rhetoric, his rhymes imbedded with food for thought

Bought with inida dara, who’s spitting, who’s the liar?

Master got skills the people all desire

Not the one to boast, the host with the most

Whoever’s holding me closest to heart, gotta focus

I mean that, just ask my master for feed back

He’ll show you what I’m talkin' about, he doesn’t see that

Put into violence, decisions, the orchestra court life

Inner demons im seeing inspire to write

Thoughts suffice power when I’m writin' my script

The words out of my lips slip into the pen that I grip

In my hands I spoke scriptures, monuments of meaning

In the time being, I’m seeing things that I’m not believing

Compose hope with the final words that I wrote

Using the prose on the page so the people can cope

And the pen became the messenger, put all my thoughts in the physical world

Turning the daily stress in the pearls

(I put my life time in between the papers lines)

I be the emcee, I write until my lonely soul is empty

My essence on the page, I pray God forgives me

For worshiping the pen that sends thoughts to paper

Escape reality’s hate, my thoughts became major

Blessed be the thing I hold in my hand, is heavenly

I readily, talk to myself, message unsettling

I innovate, crypt on the page so I can levitate

Weathering not for you chick, before they papermate

They call me Papermate, I’m holding your fate inside me

Death be upon those that goes against who guides me yeah

You can say I’m quite ahead of my game

Number two’s are lame, the illest emcee as we describe the game

Between the margins on paper, notebooks and napkins

My blood used for scriptures, war reenactments

At Waterloo, I be the foe of Napoleon

My master’s the holster like guns he holds me in

Im real convenient, write your name in the cement

Like hollywood stars, master, for you im fiending

Bring on your nemesis, ball points are my apprentices

Nobody else can do it like me, scribbling sentences

Am I gripping you tight, making sure the rhythm is right

I’m tearing the flesh of the paper like the whip hitting Christ

I thought I told you twice, to say the least your worse than nice

Your vocal device is never a vice, food for the mice

Is it scraps under the table or disses riches are able

The purpose im hurting the verses looking for truth im searching

It’s like french cuisine, top of line, the finer things

'cus you a star by far, the caviar of kings

Im writing my dreams hopes and aspirations on paper

So fuck an eraser, the pen is what I use for my labour