End of Letter

What u know bout getting up at, Five in the morning, to drive to a performance Rhyme and record it, all before four hits Thats the typa shit that I worship, on the floor-sit Cross legged, with a purpose Focused, you can see it my dreary eyes Open, up my skull and you can read it live If i seem deprived, dont pay it no mind brother Thats just my hunger, mind high as a skyjumper Thats my number, duty calls, i respond Like wassup, im on the way, with a record to cut, mmm Cutting ties like deals, i appeal to the real Im so ill, it could kill, if you feel me No meals, cold chills, in a still heat Flow fill, whole build-ings, with real peeps Kill sheets, everytime, any rhyme, spils, speak With a tone like you know im in my zone, still free Its the Locally born, globally roaming poet wit the Golden vocals chords, in other words-imma vet, only Twenty three, and yet im looking at money tree Right in front of me, i aint fronting you d-o-g's are my pet, lets Go for a walk, throw a, ball at the park Know i, swam with the sharks, so sick i need me a vet, f*ck Im on the ledge, i need a clown to push Came right out the woods, i dont beat around the bush i just Light and combust, the herbs, write and adjust, the words Flying up like a bird and yet im, tryna to duck, from The pigs, and the feds, the five-0, the twelve Higher than steve-O, on cheap coke, i aint need no regrets, so Im rolling the grass, ill throw in some hash, blowing my stash Puffing a sack, while we blowing my stack Nothing holding me back, putting holes full of lead in the backs Of the cats just ahead, i dont fold, i dont crack Under pressure, i get sicker like im under the weather With a flow so cold, you'd think summer is over Some will measure, some will bicker over whos better That shits so old, we could talk bout it forever Instead, lets just agree its Quadroon My name the signature at the end of this bold letter