GETAWAY

Self-incarcerated in this makeshift prison/

tired of being tired, tired of this way of livin'/

tired of the same system, tired of lookin' at life through this same stained prism/

its about time i engaged in a lil' escapism...

Imagination illumination, this African Son's shadow is large enough to cover skyscrapers/

took a nine month hiatus from being creative, but really, it was nothin' major/

through the pain i gave birth to something special, like a pregnant lady in labor/

i'm back to smearing ink on dead trees, that means, putting pen to paper/

from the worst of times to the best of times, i can't rest, i'm definitely intent on gettin' mines/

no longer the tentative type, but i'm still not impressed with the aggressive vibe/

why stress?--just french truffles and red wine when i sketch rhymes, even my decadence is sublime/

this ain't the norm, when i brain-storm you better stay indoors or launch an umbrella/

talk is the opposite of expensive, when i floss i won't tell ya/

he said what?? who gives a fuck?!, i'm windsurfin' at the Palm Jumeirah/

spoiled with lots of options, vintage bottles in wine cellars/

awesome weather gorgeous women, native artists rockin' the cello/

nonchalant, staring at marble art by Donatello, so mellow/

nature's soundtrack, the beat-box to this poetic bliss/

if God was a rapper, his rhymes would sound somethin' like this...

Honestly, i can't explain it, its like describing color to a blind man or noise to a deaf man/

married to this bitch called life--no prenup, wedding cake or best-man.