[Last BeNeVoLeNcE] -Verse 1-

Things were different than whatever I remembered/
Pushing away the Summer to begin my last September/
A character with a temper, but a heart of 'never-nevers/'
Didn’t think I’d ever fall in love, not unless the/
Horizons would turn to violet, screams to silence/
And every soldier’s weapon would regret dealin’ violence/
And the Earth would be quiet, anxiety? lifeless/
New system, paradise with-out global crisis/
I talk of no fantasy, no not a fable/
An adult with imagination, maybe not as stable/
As you would think or make-up But, no I’m not made up—/
Easier to deny my lines than just to break dust/
I used to drown in my fantasies, instead of my sorrows/
Daydream of battling monsters with weapons I borrowed/
From my favorite heroes, as long as tomorrow/
I can go on and on, let me tell you man, follow
My past are pictures, in the walls of my perspective/
Gallery of my mind, now painted with my intentions/
I built a pair a wings to fly with my semantics/
Developing a way to bring a fix to the damaged/
See, there was this person, who saw the sky cursin’/
He thought it was the land that needed him to purge it/
And from the looking glass, he witnessed with his eyes/
The day took it’s demise to the darkness in the skies/
Then, he began a quest like time on a mission/
To return (h)our minutes in the seconds of his instance/
Never tangled with a mistress, or saved a princess/
His purpose was only to save the planet in it’s distress/
He wasn’t negative but neither was he perfect/
He held scars despite his fight against the worthless/
But, he disappeared before restoring balance/
No one could even take his place in his absence/


[Last BeNeVoLeNcE] -Verse 2-

I was the man of that legend, just in case I never mentioned/
Eyes without wisdom, I saw more than this dimension/
So, I pocketed a vision too great for human perception/
I hold a new direction, Hip Hop is my incentive/
For the voiceless, I created an anthem/
To kidnapped sadness, and hold depression for ransom/
I choose my weapons like any king chooses land/
Music, my beats, my pad, paper, and a pen/
With a voice so smooth like the tips of a singer’s lips/
In intricate ways, flames sketch off my finger tips/
But, all this time, I thought I had saved lives/
Instead, to save rhymes with beats that I would grind/
Dropped from a world that was created in my mind/
To awaken to a time mixed with evil beats and rhymes/
So, that’s my story ,and here’s my task/
I’m on a quest to keep the darkness in Hip Hop’s past/