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The epicenter of the inner spiritual

here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore

capture scenes with maximum aperture

I'm not an amateur more like an avatar (om)

never gonna fall nor am I mad at all

I just grab the devil by the horns like a matador

beats galore, take'em ship'em straight out the door (ay)

a giant in a miniature town, don't frown

that-a boy, I'ma catapult rhymes from my data port

at this point I could ill-afford bullet holes in my metaphors

California's my home, invest in myself even when I'm hella poor

therefore, the more I get in to a war with boredom

all I'm looking for is a portal to get to a level where

my consciousness can constantly

concoct a conversation with the heavens till I die

Suddenly, you start to understand the subtleties

how the colors don't fit the frame

kind of like how nude and porn ain't the same

kids born with pain, heart torn in twain

I board the train, go all terrain

to stroll the lane called memory

game over, all the fame ain't worth a thing

it's so simple and plain, what's to gain?

so we'd know better to aim to maintain and keep the mind sane

I ain't a saint but I use the paint of words to create the rain

to cleanse the soul of dirt and be free of vain

only to turn around in shame and do it again, damn

The epicenter of the inner spiritual

here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore

dope literature

After summer, fall naturally like autumn leaves

return to the soil like broken pottery

dirty words put together make beautiful poetry

property over spirit make mental poverty

probably, given the spreadsheet I'm an anomaly

abnormally speaking it's all a make-believe

maybe when enabling the labor and the loving in the air,

disabling the labeling we all win in the end

maybe when enabling the labor and the loving in the air,

disabling the labeling we all win in the end

The epicenter of the inner spiritual

here to spit at y'all from the outer core, deep as an albacore

dope literature