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sketch tha cataclysm - re-introductions aren't necessary but fuck it lyrics

[verse 1]
it starts with a yes y’all that call from kid creole
shouted lethal from the lido deck, c-ssette steelo
walking to my own beat, hawkish by my lonely
cautious ’cause i don’t need to walk into some folks, keep
mawkish less they know me, chock it up to flows, beats
barking in my phones, heat, balking cause i’m only
trying to respect the speaker speaking talking to my soul, feet
stalking ’til the tape pops then squawking on my own
present day, led astray thoughts within the dome keep
creeping to the surface, worthless, faulty to the bone, teeth
coffee breaks the cold sleep, not scrawny though i don’t eat
a caution goes to those peops that want to get to know me
i’m lost within my home, leave, been awful to my homies
lofty goals that lost control, tossed into the cold, weak
when i get to speaking, talking for whole weeks
only faithful to my lack of faith, regret it ’til i p-ss away
said it ’cause i had to say the lessons in the p-ssion play
the proof is in the pudding and my truth is in the cabaret
best me’s on stage no masks within my masquerade
the castle’s fit for b-st-rds, save the laughter for a latter day
i h-ssle rap to mastered, pave the path to save my -ss, and gain
a meaning to the pain i’ve caused or grafted to their fashion plates
promise to make you proud, keep pounding at these crashing waves
and be a light before you scatter ashes at my m-ssive wake

[hook]
and now they’re looking at the shards

[verse 2]
a sixth sense of fire inspired by intense fits drenched
by emotion, promoted with fists clenched
a smile ‘cross the face disguises the kid’s fence
thats hiding the disgrace, the mire, the six pence
i dig into my pocket all my money is spent
a third goes to taxes, a third for the rent
a sixth for the lights and liquor to hide the pain
a sixth for a shirt and a tie to hide the stains
some people sit with looks of surprise like “why hit stage?”
the same that take a look in the sky like “why does it rain?”
i’ll tell you why. . . to deny it is strange
it throws a soul and sun off that can’t shine everyday
i sit before the listener, fractured old b-st-rd
trying to redeem the cold side of my state
i spit to serve humanity, whats left of friends and family
from ash of burning bridges and this mess that i’ve made

[hook]
and now they’re looking at the shards

(my name is sketch)

[verse 3]
tha cataclysm, wisdom’s usage fluctuating and i’m
bl–dying knuckles from beating myself up, all of my sentence punctuated with an
asterisk, if asked i quip “yes i’ve done it”, i’ve become acquainted with a
series of bad habits, i need to let go of to grow and to focus my actions the hopes when my. .
path ends, i’ll have happened across the right track to cast the light upon
and have become an upstanding citizen, an example of a righted wrong
that kept writing songs, pushed it right along, forward ’cause he might have gone
off but paused, fought it off, standing tall like the mantle that the mics up on
substance less less the liquor, the caffeine, and bad dreams mixture
that has me, the track fiend, picture of p-ssion, that rap’s mean, quicker
than last seen or desired, pasture of life laughter, the fire captured
rapture masked fighter that writes with his past mired in wrath, backwards, cr-ss, the indie rapper

- sketch tha cataclysm lyrics

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