mic righteous – the pen lyrics
call this a test. let’s see who’s the sharpest tool in the shed.
call this a test. huh.
ayo, i used to be a pebble held in the hand of an african.
part of the first tribe that carved artistic patterns on a rock of flint,
they grate my solid skin against the cave wall.
these are my roots, now your youth use me in play school.
i’ve writ tales, been held by a slave in israel.
felt the sweat on their palm wetting my thick sh-ll.
i’ve put the pictures on the pyramid,
painted on papyrus with hieroglyphics,
i’m what he egyptians, they wrote the scriptures with.
when evolution took place, my ancestors grew wings.
tall white feathers, and you dipped their head in blue ink.
i write for mozart, he held me tight to write music,
we produced a beautiful picture of p-ssion that was moving.
deep symphonies, without me, there’d be no history.
i’m seen in literacy, i seal the deals, i write the rules,
i mean literally your tears are into me.
i’m a rappers best friend and i can be your worst enemy.
when you sign the deal for devil jam,
you done sold your soul to the industry.
what you consider a real mc, i give them the ability.
take the words from out their mouth and put it on the paper lyrically.
i writ for vivid imagery, ain’t no one as sick as me.
the missing piece to your rhyme pad.
i’ve been held in hitler’s right hand.
his stone cold eyes cried when he wrote mein kampf.
i’ve sealed the deal handing over the reign like,
take me in your hand, you have to guide me like a blind man.
i wrote the governments’ secret book of society,
if i could speak i’d expose the truth behind the lies, the fiends.
i even know every secret you’re keeping in your diary.
your tears are inside of me, so lead the way and write with me.
i’m born in a factory with all of my family,
from there we’re separated into the hands of humanity.
i could be in the bottom of a politicians pocket.
the paper is my partner, without him i’m nothing.
i’ve been held by great leaders and freedom fighters and righteous
men.
the prophet came with the teachings and then i write from right to
left.
the author of the qur’an, the holy book of islam.
before you read it, pour water on your fore-arm.
i put the psalms in the bible.
still i find myself in the hands of a grown man with no plan,
signing a gyro.
i cry when i write poems, microsoft is knocking me.
everybody’s got a laptop, what, you forgotten me?
i give a poor man property, money to eat properly.
you turn your back on me, you win the lottery because of me.
i wrote a letter for a kid that never could spell,
who’s brothers in the cell, waiting for his letter in jail.
i write the will and you inherit the wealth.
i write the details for every cheque you get in the mail.
i wrote the final words of a man who had nothing, so he deaded
himself.
before he done it, he wrote a letter he left on the shelf.
the neighbours phoned the council and told them about an
unbearable smell, and when the council went in the house, the
neighbours went in as well.
they found him hanging from the banister, his head had gone pale.
they read the letter and it said ‘why didn’t anyone help?’
i told you, over and over, i ain’t mentally well.
and i’d rather exist in h-ll than live in this terrible world.
you see me? i writ the tale of a thousand fools.
cause i’m the pen. the worlds most powerful tool.
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