Writer(s) – J. D. Hopkins
Producer – Demo
As I step in the spot, they addressing the cops on their cellys.
Confusing me with my rellys, lifting shirts, I see the desi’s
Between their jeans and belly. In this hell, I’m knee deep.
But still when they look me in my eye, they still gimmie 3 feet.
BLEDJON, I’m not a monster, could of swore I was on something.
The way I walked through them dudes for food. I’m not bluffing.
They stopped shuffling cards and threw them hoodies on their head.
Would have told them my name is Jon, but they knew that I was Bled.
From the concrete to a bomb beat; Ima spit it so vividly calm. HEAT!
Flames from my brain maintained pain. It aint alarming;
For the fact I lack a tactic for what’s attacking my back.
I tend to detract and defend and react with an Ebonic vernacular strap.
It’s a rap when I spit. In fact, a wrap when I spit! Miraculous hits
Scratching a disk with a switch blade; whichever ways it slits.
My fist thrusts through headphones if Bled’s flows aint enough.
Listen up! In an instant, the transition I’m hitting is rough.
Enough with the flame lyrics; I’ve gazed into mirrors
And seen deranged spirits come near and there aint fear
In their eyes. As they spirally fly from the sky.
It’s no lie when torment has formed into this guy.
I write in the pitch black night, but my pen glows.
I’m tired of this rift raft life, but my limbs froze.
My desire is to get like Christ and my men know.
I’m trying to repent every time that the wind blows.
I can slow my flow and mold it into elements.
I gave them 3 already with no melody relevant.
Can tell this is water there’s a lot saliva dissolving.
The problem is: BLEDJON can hardly feel his heart in the autumn.
There’s a lot of sentences, I can switch and twist such as this.
No need to rush it’s just the lusciousness that I construct is sick.
I need a breath to just step into the next dimension.
All in my chest; what’s left? My hearts what you have entered:
You went to winter when to bundle every summer to summer.
The numb is your cousin. Then you run from your loved ones.
You thought BLEDJON has been bludgeoned? You thought it was a rap thing?
What if I clap bang my brain all on the track man?
Click, gat, dang! My name might be synonymous.
For being on this and honest more tarnished than smushed oranges.
Tell me what time it is. I’m losing my mind. I’m wrapped in bandage.
With these powers combined I’ll tell you why I’m captain planet!
Now that I managed to damage these styles, I am alive again.
A warrior, sore are my eyes: disguised cornea of a blind man.
I’m rhyming with hieroglyphics, a shrine of just vinyl pictures;
I’m trying to just find my vision. My eye is confined with stiches.
Not lying man, I was dripping blood up on the porch.
But before that it was worse. I heard the nurse say: he got the curse.
First was the dilation as a patient and my fate would
Have it be glaucoma. I’m like “hold up doc, just wait man!”
I didn’t understand the man’s words, verbiage he was using:
Said “you’re eyes are having a fight with life. I’m sorry to say they’re loosing.”
70% of retinal tissue missing and gone.
This before busting rhymes playing baseball 11yrs old.
Dang and all they gave me were these glasses matching Stevie.
My knees upon the cement, I’m pleading “Lord Jesus!”
Wondering what’s next and how can I be blessed in this?
My past is restless. I’m on a quest stressing an exodus
From convexed spirits and I don’t think you hear me.
Wiping tears smearing, seeing like a lycan so clearly.
I learned to write in the dark. My eyes enlightened the bark
Of the #2 pencil; mental dimensional spark.
I prayed to God in the evening to sway the sight of seeing Legion.
Sclera’s deleting. Terror then prayer just freed him.
Ears became my eyes. So, when I recite what I’m portraying
I’m laying foundational blocks. So, just stop and see what I’m saying.
(You see what I’m saying?)