Ghost of Chris Wallace
The seven footer on Boston Street, and I'm feeling awesomely
Tough to gauge and someone who you probably wouldn't often meet
Not to toot my own horn. I'd probably toot it awkwardly
But marching to a drummer who is different is why I'm on beat
Living like a quest, love. Trying to make the best of
My situation. Never let my inspiration rest up
Catching 'z's is luxury and right now I am ug-a-ly
No beauty sleep, and I ain't ever heard of fucking Robin Leach
Probably because I'm dodging the shiny things that can bother me
I'm trying to keep some hope alive. No one should be in poverty
Honestly I'm only tackling problems that's in front of me
Please don't front on me because I'm rolling down another street
Trying to get this lane paved. I can make my own way
No bandana on my face, but you know I'm Black Pais'
All day in real time. Never miss a meal time
Sicker than I should be, but some how I feel fine
I know you hear the music, but please feel mine
Sensory overload; the music gets me real high
I won't stop until the trash truck comes, And the whack get gone and the masks come off
No costumes. Avoid the postuum
Cause this Wallace is alive and kicking and trying to rock truth
And keep going. Never stop it when I'm rapping
I don't have it written but you know that this is happening