Letra I Alexipharmic

I

I survived a busted condom and swam through a douche
And planted myself in fallopian tubes
So I exist as the result of a broken Trojan
And implosion of a supernova's explosion
May tenth, eighty-five, this kid went live
For him to arrive somebody must've died
Cause that's just life, it's all give and take
We're along for the ride til someone hits the breaks
At eight years old, my childhood was sold
For a calendar and custody along the winding road
Told everything'd be all right, and everything was
I was lucky enough to be a product of love
But it's still fucked up.
And every move I moved with em
A year later I turned to Buddhism
Around that time the Hutus and Tutsis
Moved me to action, I found my voice to speak
But then my balls dropped and there came a new directive
Chased girls at school like an elective
Watched religion be a system that increasingly decided
It's the fate of other nations be conquered and divided
That's when I chose to write these 8's and 16's
Manifest dreams I chose to believe
Well anyways, the days of high school came and left
Like K-Fed's 15 seconds on Brit's breasts
I'm clinically insane to the point where they claim
That my brain's got the inmates of Bellevue contained
My mind's bound to change
More often that a senile masochist trying hard to cope with the pain
Most days I try to fight my way outta this conundrum
ButÉilligitamati non carbarundum
Each moment's impermanent so what I gotta do's
Stay true to my octagon path and prove
Nothing to anyone when I'm done the race is run
Against myself and no one else Ð achievements don't rest on a shelf
To be honest, I feel half the things I've done
Have been as useful as finding shade on the sun
When I was young I was aware everything was impermanent
Didn't learn to love the moments which made it worse when it
Passed by now I decided to fly
In the testament to those in the past that died
My last night of rest was when I was a fetus
And if you understood the kind of dreams I had you would believe this
Priorities in life are make music, make love
Take slugs out the barrels of loaded guns in slums
Still there's a lot of things I'd like to be
Momma said I could be anything, turned out that she lied to me
Cause I'd be a porn star in a minute
And marry Micah Moore but I'm not double digits
But I was given another responsibility
So when my veins get charged with electricity
The pen starts to move, the blood turns to boil
When the news shows more poor are stuck under soil
Now I think Bush is a Dick, that's true
But I don't rap about that to try to impress you
I'll never respect you if you do to sound political
Which seems to be rap's favorite ritual