Sickness-MYK

I take this sickness and turn it into sick sh*t I take my sickness and turn it into sick spit That ill sh*t My mind was in need of nurturing tired and worn down this ground shift in my stance a chance to turn it around When the body reeks havoc a speech of sheer madness could turn into a death trap so run past it I'm gunnin' runnin' for the door to exit a point in time, whatever you call a stand still in a book of rhymes I call it life man you should choose the right plan, I'll live a life span in front if mic stands So if i don't keep a level mind an unhealthy state of rhymes could lead to rebel lies to self Off the shelf, i wipe the dust from my mind's pages empty spaces i fill in with pencil drawn faces To document the different moods and occurrences they hint to me these pictures move where assurance lives So i draw the nourishment fruits of the purest sh*t and keep the styles up to date and keep moving it Made a few trips, through where the truth lives back to the roots an old dog learning old tricks New bits and pieces to fuel the heeling process i only hear the word of others void the lost message I stay zoned locked up inside my koo koo's nest but never slip up when doing what I do best Smooth rhythmically script writer speaking in code wizardry meaning a flow blizzard breeze winds in simplicity Then transmit it over drums and bass lines spit it for a minute you get it it's too late i'm climbing up this ladder Leaving behind what isn't needed i take a breather, crank the speakers let the pen bleed it out Over pages, blank sheets, the canvas is never out-dated i create what's passionate Turning these, otherwise routine, thoughts that visualize painting pictures like tableaus on infinite skies Chillin' on cloud nine while filling on proud wine a state of drunkenness pumpin' this with a loud mind I get inside the beat and rip it from the heart of it keeping the blood boiling through your veins like an arsonists