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accent - rapping for change lyrics

rapping for change

he’s a sleek saunterer, street wanderer, steep ponderer
speech powerful, each honorer reaches down in a
deeper pocket for meager profits that keep him stockier
instead of pizza maybe this time he can beef & brocc it up
heat hot enough, speeding through in a sloppy rush
without a beatboxer to bop to, emcee-er shouts to them
respect to the beggars but never says ‘please drop some in’
if ever he were desperate he’d get them to wish he’d rock again
your friendly neighborhood hip-hopper that needs to shop for stuff
that cost him bucks but a lot of that tedious job is luck
thus, he never drops his cup or puts it down
or piddles when the sniffles come, the kid’ll gun with crooked rounds
so he pushes sounds around bound to tourist towns
as is his, after this he’ll hound another crowd
and bust it proudly whether cloudy or the sun is out
from the mouth he thrusts it loudly for the ones that’s round
something found underground where the yuppies drown
pure poetry that goes to sleep for upwards frowns
like his city that’s strikingly pretty
or hyper kiddies mighty giggly at night with their besties
he might get busy for ciggies and a couple of pennies
but he can’t help but wish he’d fill a bigger piggy
bank, but thanks though, i needed that…

sometimes i just wanna fly away
and i will never touch the ground
maybe i will go to outer sp-ce
and i will never come down

nah, never that
he’ll just float like kush smoke push from throats
while he cooks dope-esque hood quotes for “good folks”
he should go ’cause this sure cold was foretold
but he’s more broke so he roars notes for pure gold or stoges
and that warm toke will warn most who mourn ghosts
but that boy gloats with a ho-rs- hope
sorely spoken, the busker’s own curative potion
is pure emotion that touches them with furious devotion
wondering what all of them think
falls by the brink of destruction, he exalts what he sings
to a level of impressiveness, their coins become his
and whatever he expresses then will only be rich
if, what a concept the lonliest wish
which, underlines scripts when longing for it
shesh, what the sky’ll do is draw in his chin
to run a rhyme by slumbered minds and bring awe to these friends
single serving, wrinkled curr’ncy are some dollars he gets
but simply perfect, him deserving never argues against
swiftly turning, gently swerving through the horrible mess
that blends his purpose with a courage that gets bothered at best
yes, pair of double crosses guarding his chest
so he’d say beware of double cross from others (from others)
pair of double crosses guarding his chest
so he’d say beware of double cross from others

sometimes i just wanna fly away
and i will never touch the ground
maybe i will go to outer sp-ce
and i will never come down

he blends in as part whilst standing out as different
he feels the pain of his cohorts and in turn benefits
a roaming heart, under only sky, yet home
millions of living-mates but he hates being alone
free, donuts at dawn, slightly stale and subtly wonderful
he smiles while he cries, eating. it’s comfortable
a loiterer legally relaxing on his porches
to smoke some of what’s left in his collection of like four or six
the mornings are hard, everyone’s on their way somewhere
away somewhere or already working in its warming start
the metal of his coins are hot, palms sweat when he dumps them
(if only they’d itch) plus some paper bills, something
a cardboard sign wielding couple ask politely
if he could spare a nickel towards their trouble, he denies them
they hear his wrist wiggle to say he’s trying too, their eyes confused
framed so filth’ly, he’s ashamed, no guilty, but he can’t

- accent lyrics

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