Red

[Verse 1: Evidence]

Yo, every time I write I start reverting to my life

It feels more important than any words that rhyme

And what I mean is this: I can't rap for other rappers

My truth has to be told, if not then I'm an actor

I played roles til it didn't feel redeeming

I save my bread when it's earned more than when I'm scheming

My day's light compared to feelings in the evening

At night, I'm an angel on my shoulders wearing demons

I wear my heart on my articles of clothing

And play my cards, I'm just an artist who ain't folding

I saved my scars for the day I started flowing

In the same way the hardest shit to learn's a part of growing

Told the world my dreams and lived through it

And I came apart at the seams, then I renewed it

Wipe the slate clean

Validate everything I knew since I was eighteen

Might just rock a gold chain like B.A. from A-Team

My God, these are not words with empty promises

These are from a person who's immersed in where the drama is

I thought the feeling was dead

So I wrote a second verse but kept the first one instead

My God, if these four walls could talk

My drum chops have seen it all

His eyes were dead

Mine always been bloodshot red

[Verse 2: Brother Ali]

Midwest or Venice

First or second amendment

Shell casing or penmanship

They felt it when I sent it

I'm sixth sense, sentence sensitivity is vintage

Busy curing sicknesses that's yet to be invented

Engendered, respected, Nth degree is endless

The main emphasis is to be felt instead of mentioned

Man listen, I step up on this land pissin'

And rocking a chunky gold link chain of transmission

My bandwidth is blistering

Ancestors hissin' and

Standing on the brick to push my passion through this instrument

My God, extended breaks to invite me

And dilate my peoples, bystanders can't indict me

I got a brother named Amir Sulaiman

If you know my name and not his, then something's wrong

Word born, here's a bar he spit, I wanna honor it

He said it's counterfeit to think that cowardice lengthens life; bravery shortens it

This is the author of the warrior poets

The inordinate glorious that slaughtered by the lawless

I know that all the rawness that the hearts could harness

The healing tears applauded on performance, flawless

My God, if these four walls could talk

Drum chops have heard it all

His eyes were dead, mine always been albino red

My God, if these four walls could talk

Drum chops have heard it all

His eyes were dead, mine always been albino red

My God