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Why I Can't Rhyme
i sat on the ground
making rhymeless sounds
it was flawless
my music flew me higher
than any of my friends
but you've got your pictures
and all your priceless words
i'm far too anti-social
to be that kind of artist
so now i'm in hell
just lookin for a way out
what gives you the right
to put me there in the first place?
my music was beautiful
you ain't nothin but deceiptful
with your stupid paintings
pointless words
music is a language all of itself
and you could never have done
what i done
what i created
now you hatin me
you took and you take
from all my brothers
we are the kings
of creation
when it comes to musical notes
but you jealous
so you read our minds
steal our music
and then you scare the livin music
outside of us
i've forgotten
all that i've ever created thanks to you
you fuckin liar
sendin me to a musicless hell
while you listen to my shit in heaven
poem
by
Robert Jackson
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